


In Search of Forever: Alice's Story

by ObsessedtwibrarianOTB



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twilight Fusion, F/M, Historical, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 54
Words: 202,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB/pseuds/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB
Summary: Alice is young and alone in an insane asylum in Biloxi, Mississippi. An equally lonely vampire befriends her and tries to make her stay in the asylum more bearable, but he's a vampire with many secrets and a past that is quickly catching up with him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've done what I think no author has done before me. I've put Alice into the asylum at 5 years old. My reasoning for doing this was that I wanted to write her as a child and watch her mature and grow into the young woman we now know as Jasper's eternal companion. This evolution didn't happen by itself, however. A vampire entered her life the moment she entered that hospital. And this vampire is the one person most responsible for the Alice we know and love today. He practically raised her, he educated her, protected her, and eventually loved her. In the end, he was willing to give up his one last chance at happiness--- for her.
> 
> I guarantee that if you read this story, you will fall in love with this vampire. He will find a place in your heart right beside of Edward.

“Just a few more questions.” The man spoke tiredly as he shuffled the papers in his hands. The heat in the small, colorless room was suffocating. The man reached up and unthinkingly brushed his hand across his sweaty forehead before continuing with his interminable questions.

A slight woman with long, dark hair pinned up in a chignon, sat primly in the stiff wooden chair across from the man and his battered wooden desk. She held a tiny girl on her lap. The girl’s head lay on her shoulder, and her small hands were clutched to the sleeves of the woman’s dress. The woman’s husband sat hunched over beside her in his own stiff chair, looking at the floor, and nervously turning his brown, felt hat in his hands.

“Is the patient addicted to the intemperate use of intoxicating liquors, tobacco, morphine, cocaine or other injurious drugs?" The man looked with disinterest at the woman, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“No.” The woman’s whisper was barely audible even in the stillness of the small room.

The man scratched the short answer onto the paper and then continued. “Is the patient affected by paralysis, dropsy, blindness, deafness, or dumbness?”

“No,” the woman whispered.

“Does the patient suffer from hysteria, insomnia, tuberculosis, or pellagra?”

“No.”

“Does the patient suffer from uterine or pelvic disorders? Is the patient pregnant?” The man’s voice was monotone and flat.

“No…and no.” The woman’s voice was filled with irony as she wondered how he could ask something so ridiculous.

“Is the patient violent or destructive?” the man continued, seemingly unaware of the stupidity of his questions.

The woman sighed. “No.” 

“Does the patient talk to himself, assume peculiar attitudes, or hear voices?”

“No.” The woman’s patience was nearing an end. She wondered why all these inane questions were even necessary. None pertained to them.

The man must have wondered the same thing at the same time. He stopped writing and looked at the well-dressed man and woman sitting before him, holding their equally well-dressed child. He cleared his throat, laid down his pencil, clasped his hands together under his chin for a few moments, and then laid them on the scarred desk, before finally meeting the woman’s sad, green eyes. “May I ask, why is the patient being admitted to this hospital?”

The woman hesitated. She looked over at her husband, waiting for him to answer, but he sat still hunched over, gazing at the floor, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. She suddenly grew angry at his apparent disinterest. Many nights of violent fights between the two of them had resulted in his insistence upon hospitalization. Crying, pleading and even screaming had failed to move him from his decision, and now he was retreating from them, from his wife and child. The woman wondered when the loving and kind man she had married had turned into a coward.

“She has premonitions,” the woman answered in a strong voice.

“Premonitions?” The man sat up straight with interest; his eyes registered their doubt.

“Yes. Premonitions. Visions. She sees events that are going to happen in the future.” The woman spoke proudly. She wanted both of the men in the room—this disinterested stranger and her husband—to know that her child was not a freak.

The man scratched words onto his paper at great length. Then he turned the paper around and pushed it toward the woman. He summarized, in a bored tone, the contents of the official document. “Both of your signatures are required. Please understand that by signing these papers you are releasing your daughter to the permanent care of Biloxi State Mental Hospital. A doctor will be assigned to your daughter’s case, and he will make an evaluation to determine what course of treatment will be needed to cure her of her…. _ailment._ You waive all rights to decisions regarding her future care and treatment. You are, of course, allowed to visit your daughter any time you wish, but visits must be prearranged with her doctor. If, at any time, you wish to remove your daughter from our care, you must make arrangements to speak with her doctor first before moving forward with any discharge procedures. If her doctor feels that release would be detrimental to your daughter’s treatment, he, as a representative of this hospital, can refuse discharge.” The man hesitated before continuing. He wondered why the husband had been so silent during the entire process, but he quickly dismissed his curiosity. It was of no great interest to him. "Do you have any questions before you sign?”

There was an interminable silence in the small room. The woman didn’t want to sign her name to the paper. She didn’t want to give her tiny, helpless daughter over to these uncaring strangers. She frantically searched her mind for some way to get out of this, but she knew it was hopeless. The decision had been made. It was out of her control.

“No. We understand.” The husband spoke for the first time, his voice low, but forceful. He sat up straight and gazed over at his wife. There was sadness in his eyes, but his expression was determined. The decision weighed heavily on him, but such was the plight of a husband and father. He had to do what he thought was best for the family.

“Then will you please sign your full names at the bottom of the page?” The man was relieved that the admitting process was nearly at an end. He was late for dinner once again.

After the signatures had been secured, the man left the room, promising to return shortly with a nurse.

The woman pulled her daughter from her embrace and helped her to stand. She lovingly adjusted her dress, stroked her hair and smiled. The child looked back, wide-eyed and frightened. She started forward to wrap her arms around her mother’s legs, but her mother gently stopped her. “Now, now.” The woman spoke in a soft, soothing voice as she bent over her child. “A young lady always stands regal and straight, poised and smiling, for her gentleman she waits, remember?” The woman fought back tears as she recited the familiar rhyme to her daughter.

The little girl looked at her mother. She straightened her little back, pulled up her chin, dropped her hands to her side, palms against her dress, and smiled a small trembling smile.

“Always remember that we love you. Never forget that, no matter what happens.” The woman was fighting desperately to hold back her grief. She wanted to be strong and not frighten her child. Her arms already ached with an emptiness she knew would never be filled.

Her husband finally stood, and squatted down before his daughter. He looked into her eyes, and then pulled her into his large arms. He hugged her tightly, knowing this was probably the last time he would ever see her. He broke the embrace finally, and spoke not a word. What could he say? The decision had been made. The papers were signed.

Then the man returned, along with a nurse, to take the little girl to her room and get her settled for the night. The man and woman watched as the nurse took their daughter’s small hand in hers and turned to leave the room. The little girl looked back once, her eyes filled with fear.

“Regal and straight," the woman reminded her once more, as she fought the urge to scoop her daughter up into her arms and run as fast as she could out of this horrid building.

The little girl stood up straight once again, pulled up her chin and turned back around, never to see her parents again.

“What’s your name, child?” The nurse was looking down at the little girl with a smile that looked pasted on.

The little girl whispered her name as she looked straight ahead to a scary and uncertain future. "Alice." 


	2. Admittance

**~ ALICE ~**

_I don’t like this place._ I grabbed mommy’s dress and held on tight. I looked at the floor: gray. The walls: gray. Then the ceiling. There were cracks in the ceiling. _Scary things come out of cracks._

I heard words but I didn't understand them. _They’re too big._ I buried my face in Mommy’s neck. I smelled her perfume; it was pretty. She told me once it was Lily of the Valley. I liked it. I closed my eyes and stopped listening to the man across the desk. He didn’t like me. I quit looking at Daddy a long time ago. He was just looking at the floor. He told me he loved me last night when he tucked me into bed. _Does he still love me?_ Mommy loves me. She made sure I was wearing my best dress and my prettiest shoes. She even bought me some special clasps for my hair. I squeezed her dress in my hands. I wanted to cry, but I mustn’t.

I heard the man ask why I was here. Mommy told him something I didn’t understand. Then I heard a word I knew: visions. Mommy called them that, but I called them my ‘awake dreams’. My awake dreams were why I was here.

The man left and Mommy pulled me from her. I tried to hold on to her dress, but my hands slipped off. I was standing now and Mommy was fixing my dress and smoothing my hair. I was trying to be a young lady, but even young ladies need mommies. I wanted my mommy. I tried to hug her legs, but she stopped me.

“A young lady always stands regal and straight, poised and smiling, for her gentleman she waits, remember?” Mommy always told me this rhyme when I slouched or frowned. So, I stood up straight and put my hands at my side, but I didn’t want to smile. I tried, but it wasn’t a good smile.

“Always remember, we love you. Never forget that, no matter what happens.” Mommy looked like she was about to cry. _Don’t cry!_

Then Daddy came and squatted down in front of me. _I love Daddy._ There were tears in his eyes. Daddy never cried, never. He hugged me and squeezed me so tight, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t say he loved me, but he did. I could just tell.

Then the man came back and there was a woman with him. _I don’t like her._ She wasn’t a young lady; she looked mean. She grabbed my hand. Her hand was fat and slimy. I tried to pull away, but she held on tight. It was time to leave. I looked back at Mommy and Daddy. I knew I was slouching, and frowning, too, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to leave this room.

“Regal and straight," my mommy reminded me again. Then I remembered: I was a young lady. I stood up straight and held my chin high like Mommy taught me, and I walked away with the woman.

“What’s your name, child?” The woman was trying to sound nice, but I knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t like my mommy.

“Alice.”

I wanted to cry, but there was no use. This was supposed to happen. I’d seen it.


	3. First Sight (Alice's POV)

**~ ALICE ~**

The mean lady pulled on my hand as we started walking down the hall. “Come along, now. Come along.” She didn’t sound like she liked children very much.  _She’s going too fast!_ The heels on my shoes made loud clicking noises as she dragged me along. I used to love to tap my shoes on the floor. Not anymore.

The hall was long, and everything was gray, like the room I just left—the room where Mommy and Daddy were. And there were doors, many brown doors, with windows too high up to see into. What was behind them?   
  
She dragged me around a corner and down another hall. It looked the same as the other one, so I looked at _her_ instead. Her dress was light blue with a long white apron over it. Her shoes poked out from under her dress as she pulled me along—black and pointed, with buttons as far as I could see. They were scuffed and didn’t look very nice. _I hope they pinch her feet._ I stretched my head back and looked at her hat. It was white and stuck on the back of her head. Her hair was pinned up under it like Mommy’s, but hers wasn’t as pretty as Mommy’s. Mommy’s hair was dark and silky like mine. Hers was gray, like everything else here. She was frowning, too, not smiling like a lady should. The way her face looked made me think her shoes _did_ pinch. That made me happy.

We turned another corner and started down another hallway. I was lost. There were too many halls and doors. I heard sounds now, but they were far away. They sounded like crying and screaming. Somebody sounded hurt! I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but the woman wouldn’t let go. 

We turned another corner and started down another gray hall, but this one was different. There was a man standing in it, beside a metal cart. As we got closer, I saw that he was only as tall as my mommy, nowhere near as tall as Daddy. Daddy was a giant! The man had smooth hair and it was a very light brown. My mommy would say it was stylish. A piece of his hair had fallen over his forehead. Mommy would have reached out and pushed it away. She did that to me all the time. He was wearing dark brown trousers and a white shirt with the button opened at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His shoes were brown and not scuffed. Mommy would have approved. I thought we were going to walk right past him, but we didn’t. We stopped.

“Morgan, I’d like you to meet our newest guest: Alice.” The woman had that pretend smile on her face again.

“I’m charmed to make your acquaintance, Alice.” His voice was soft and nice. He tilted his head a little, just like a gentleman should. I noticed his nose: it was straight. Mommy said a man with a straight nose had a kind heart.

“Alice, this is Morgan Grant. He is an orderly here. You’ll be seeing quite a lot of him during your stay. You are to call him Mr. Grant.”

I curtsied and tilted my head, just like Mommy taught me. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Grant.” I said politely. I looked up at him through my lashes.

He smiled down at me. His eyes were a strange color, but I didn’t have time to look closer. 

The woman was tugging on my hand again. “Come along now, Alice. We haven’t got all night.”

The woman was pulling me away. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to hear his soft voice again. I looked over my shoulder at him as we walked away. He was still looking at me. I watched him start walking slowly after us. _He’s coming with us._ Then I saw his hands. They were balled up into fists. Daddy did that when he and Mommy had fights. _Did I do something to make him angry?_ We turned another corner. He followed us but then he stopped. It was then that I finally started crying. He wasn’t coming with us, and I was never going to see my family again. Then he turned around and left.

“Alice, stop that crying! My name is Elizabeth Filkins and I will be your nurse, but you are to refer to me as Mrs. Filkins and nothing else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered. A young lady is always polite and mannerly.

We stopped in front of an open door. 

“This is to be your room.”

The woman pulled me inside the door. I just stood still and stared. I didn’t like it. It was too small and everything was gray except for the walls. They were yellow, but not a pretty yellow. It looked like the yellow mess in my baby sister, Cynthia’s, diaper. The bed was small and made out of metal, and it was pushed into one corner. There were strips of cloth hanging off of it that looked like belts. I didn’t know why they were there. There was a little cabinet pushed against another wall with a bowl and pitcher sitting on it, but this bowl and pitcher wasn’t pretty like mine at home. Mine had pink flowers on it. This one was plain white. There was only one window and it was too high up. I wouldn’t be able to see out of it even if I stood up on my bed. It was ugly. There were no pink curtains with ruffles. There were no curtains at all. No soft pink rug in the middle of the floor to stretch out on and play with a doggie. The floor was gray and looked cold. There were no books or toys.

Then Mrs. Filkins grabbed me and plopped me down on the hard bed. She started tugging at the buckles on my shoes.  _No! She’s not taking my pretty black shoes! Mommy bought these for me especially for Easter!_ I kicked her fat, ugly hand as hard as I could.

“Now Alice…” Mrs. Filkins was smiling her awful smile again. She tried to unbuckle my shoes again, and I kicked her good, with _both_ feet!

She gave up and started unbuttoning my dress. I shook my head. _No! You can’t have my dress either! Mommy said I looked like a queen in it! No!_

“You can’t wear these clothes here. We have special clothes for all of our guests.”

She was trying to sound nice, but she wasn’t. That was when I started screaming, and they were the loudest and best screams I had ever screamed in my life. I _’m sorry Mommy. I can’t be regal and straight! She’s trying to take my pretty clothes that you bought for me! And my pretty shoes!_ I clawed at her fat, sausage fingers and screamed as loudly as I could. Tears were pouring down my face, but I didn’t care. Then Mrs. Filkins started hitting me and calling me a spoiled little brat. _Mommy and Daddy never hit me. Never!_ I shrieked even louder. Her fat hands slapped at my face and arms.

“What the hell is going on?!” someone yelled. It sounded like a man. “Stop hitting her! _Stop!”_

The hitting stopped. The fat fingers went away. I stopped screaming and wiped the tears off of my face. I wanted to see the man who had made it all go away. It was him, Mr. Grant, and he was looking at me. His eyes were a strange color. They were brown like a mud puddle after it rains, but they were red, too. Not bright red; they were dark red and warm, like my doggie’s fur. _His eyes are the same color as Puppy’s fur._ I smiled.  _Everything is going to be all right now._


	4. First Sight (Morgan's POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear up any confusion, Morgan Grant and Michael Golland are the same person. He changed his name when he emigrated to the New World before the Civil War.

**~ MORGAN ~**

I was just starting to commence my duties for the night when I became aware of a conversation taking place in the admitting office. Apparently we were getting another patient. I sighed at the thought of more responsibilities and not enough hands and quickly dismissed the conversation from my mind.

As I started down the hall toward the supply closet I wondered, not for the first time, why God, (if He even existed), would allow such suffering to persist on His earth. The desperation and sadness contained in just this one building was unconscionable, and such suffering went on all over the world on a daily basis. I knew because I had seen it. The anguish I had witnessed—and taken part in—was the reason I was here.

It was then, in the midst of my futile thoughts, that I became aware of a new scent in the building, a _disturbing_ scent.  _It must be the new patient_. All of the human scents in the building were familiar to me. This one was most assuredly new. I stopped where I stood and concentrated all my senses in the direction of that dangerously tantalizing smell. I heard footsteps moving quickly in my direction, _two_ pairs of footsteps—one person with very long strides, the other, short, quick clicking steps. _A child…_

I knew I should leave. The intelligent thing to do would be to turn around and walk as fast as possible out the nearest door and never stop, never look back, anything to get away from that scent bombarding my body.  My curiosity kept me rooted in my place. I wanted to see the source. Who had the power, after all these centuries, to awaken the demon inside of me? I waited impatiently for their approach; it seemed to be taking an eternity. The scent was becoming increasingly unbearable the closer it got, and it took all of my strength to keep myself outwardly calm. 

Then they turned the corner and I saw her. The source of the alluring scent was being pulled along by Mrs. Filkins. I immediately dismissed Mrs. Filkins from my mind—she was unimportant—and focused all my attention on the little girl. _Why, she’s no more than five or six years old!_ As she walked down the hall toward me, I was taken aback by her poise and apparent calmness. Why wasn’t she fighting or at least crying? This did not seem normal for so young a child.

I quickly took in her appearance as she drew near. She was wearing a white lace dress with black trim and black bows, matching white stockings and black shoes with buckles. Her hair was long, dark and shiny, and hung nearly to her waist. But it was her eyes that held my attention; piercing green eyes stared up at me out of a porcelain heart-shaped face. My first inexplicable thought when I looked into those eyes was that she was wise beyond her meager years. Then I did something that I had not had occasion to do in hundreds and hundreds of years: I stopped breathing.

“Morgan, I’d like you to meet our newest guest: Alice.”

I ignored Mrs. Filkins and concentrated on keeping my composure. "I’m charmed to make your acquaintance, Alice.”

I was shocked at how soft and calm my voice sounded. It certainly did not bespeak the turmoil that was taking place inside my body at that very moment. In the brief time it took for me to utter those few words, her scent had rushed into my lungs and stunned me with its power. I did not know how much longer I could keep my composure.

“Alice, this is Morgan Grant. He is an orderly here. You’ll be seeing quite a lot of him during your stay. You are to call him Mr. Grant.”

I watched as she curtsied and bowed her head like a proper lady. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Grant.” Her voice was but a tiny whisper, but it echoed inside my head like a church bell at noontime. Then she flashed those green eyes up at me underneath her lashes in a surprisingly flirtatious manner. _Someone has taught her well._ Speaking was out of the question, so I did the only thing possible at the moment: I smiled warmly in response.

And then Mrs. Filkins was pulling her away. _No! Not yet!_ I wasn’t ready for her to leave my sight. I felt an invisible cord tugging at me, urging me to follow. It was inexplicable, but impossible to resist. I slowly followed them, my fists clenched in agony, not daring to breathe. As they turned the corner I realized that the unthinkable was about to happen. My control was slipping and I knew I could go no further. As her eyes welled up and the tears started to flow down her cheeks, I turned and fled.

I rushed down the halls in a blinding haze of blood lust to the nearest water closet. I ran into a stall, slammed the door shut, and leaned my balled fists up against the wall. I let out my breath and was shocked at the sounds that came with it. My chest heaved with loud gasps and agonizing moans that echoed off the walls of the room. The venom flowed freely into my mouth and my throat was suddenly parched and aching. A wildfire of pain was burning through my body. I gritted my teeth and moaned loudly as I fought against my body’s need for her. In my mind, I imagined running back through the halls and plucking her from Mrs. Filkin’s grasp, racing with her out into the night, the wind stealing away her screams. I saw her enveloped in my arms, the skin of her neck bared and glowing in the moonlight. I could almost feel the luscious tear of skin, taste the hot blood gushing into my mouth. I longed for her like I had never longed for any human before. I wanted to drink from her until she lay limp and lifeless in my arms, the life flowing out of her and into my body.

“Morgan, are you all right? Do you need help?” a worried voice spoke hesitantly.

I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t alone. I managed to gasp out a suitable response. “I’m sick. Go away!” I mimicked a vomiting noise to add credence to the lie.

I heard the door softly shut and then I listened to see if I was truly alone. I was. That brief interruption, though, was enough to break through the red haze. I felt my control sliding firmly back into place. I concentrated for the next few moments on calming myself. Finally the blood lust was gone, but the demon wasn’t. I felt his presence inside of me, hovering, waiting. I’d kept him locked away for so long; he was enjoying his newfound freedom.

I reasoned in my mind that killing her would be a waste. She was so small. There was not enough blood in her body to satisfy one such as me, but the demon inside of me hissed that she would merely be the appetizer before the main meal, a tasty morsel to whet the appetite.

“No!” I yelled harshly into the silence. I would _not_ give in to the demon’s appetites. I had stopped eating from that table ages ago. I enjoyed the life I had here. I loved my work at the hospital. I refused to allow the vile demon inside of me to destroy everything I had labored for these past years. I wasn’t ready to move on. I didn’t want to run again…not yet.

By pure force of will, and centuries of practice, I pushed the demon back into the dark room deep inside my consciousness. I slammed the door shut on him and all of his sick desires. I straightened my body as a sense of calmness and peace washed over me. I smoothed my clothes and hair and prepared to go back to my duties. I had been resisting innocent humans for an eternity. I could do this.

It was then that my moment of peace was interrupted by a series of piercing screams echoing down the hallways. It was her, the little girl, Alice! And without thinking, I ran toward the sound that was shattering my lifeless heart.


	5. Trust

**~ MORGAN ~**

I rushed into a room that was in utter chaos. Mrs. Filkins was hitting Alice, her face red with anger and exertion. While Alice, in turn, was shrieking, kicking and crying all at the same time in a fit of rage more suitable for an adult. I had absolutely no authority to interfere, but I could not restrain myself. I gave voice to my outrage.

“What the hell is going on?!” I screamed. “Stop hitting her! _Stop!”_

Mrs. Filkins ignored me and continued pummeling the little girl. Without thinking of the consequences, I grabbed her around the waist from behind and pulled her away from the bed. She wrested herself from my grasp and glared at me, her eyes afire and chest heaving with anger. She jabbed her finger in my direction. “You forget yourself, Mr. Grant!” she yelled. “You have no right to interfere!”

“What’s happening? What is the matter?” I spoke calmly, although the effort to do so was enormous. I sought out her eyes, as distasteful as it was, to try and soothe her. What I really wanted to do, what my fingers _itched_ to do, was to close around Mrs. Filkins’ neck and squeeze until there was no life left in those horrid eyes. Everyone in this building would probably thank me for it.

I glanced over at Alice while waiting for her answer. She was snubbing and attempting to wipe the tears from her face. Her eyes were green pools of fear and mistrust. I wanted even more to remove the cause of her pain from this earth, but I pushed my anger away. It would only cause more harm to the girl in the long run.

“She’s refusing to take off her clothes and shoes. I explained to her—“she glared at Alice as she spoke.”—that she cannot wear those clothes here. Then the spoiled little brat kicked me!”

I moved closer to Mrs. Filkins until I was inches from her. I turned my back to Alice and then leaned in, a breath’s distance from the side of her neck. I felt her body tense. I could smell the fear on her. “I would think it would be obvious that your method is not working,” I hissed through clenched teeth into her ear. My patience with her was quickly approaching its end. “Perhaps a little kindness would suffice?”

“You dare to tell me how to do my job?” she hissed softly in outrage, but then backed away from me and moved to the door with a smug smile, her arms folded across her chest in a display of matronly arrogance. She was about to get a lesson in trust. I hoped she paid attention.

I walked cautiously over to the bed and stood a couple of feet away. I caught Alice’s eyes and held them, just for a moment. She smiled up at me. My heart clenched at the sight of so much trust in her eyes, trust I had not yet earned. I allowed myself to breathe, not deeply, but with shallow respirations. Even then, her scent was like a cloud of fog swirling around my feet, seeping into my clothes, my skin, inching its way into my head. Venom filled my mouth, my body burned with the need, but I pushed it away back into that deep, dark compartment. I locked it away so she would be safe. I’d had countless years of practice doing this. It was a painful truth that she was going to be much harder than the average human, but I _would_ do it, because I had to help this hurting soul gazing back at me.

“Alice?” I asked hesitantly and in my softest voice possible.

“Mr. Grant.” Her soft whisper was but a stir of the air.

“Please call me Morgan.” As I smiled, I was vaguely aware of Mrs. Filkins clucking in disapproval.

“Morgan,” she repeated. Her voice rose above a whisper as she tried out the sound of my name on her tongue. I thrilled at hearing it.

“Those are very beautiful shoes. I’ve never seen any so shiny,” I marveled.

She stared back at me for a very long time before she finally spoke in a small scared voice. “My mommy bought them for me for Easter.” She poked a foot up in front of her so both of us could see it.

“They are exceedingly lovely, but it would be a shame if they got scuffed.”

She poked her other foot up in the air and held them both steady. As she stared at her shoes, her brows pulled together in a frown at whatever thoughts were going through her head. “What will you do with them if I take them off?” she asked suspiciously.

I knew exactly what was going to happen to those shoes as soon as they left this room. Mrs. Filkins was going to take them home for one of her numerous granddaughters. It was almost a certainty that one would be the same age and size as Alice. Stealing from patients was a common occurrence in this hospital, and Mrs. Filkins was the worst offender.

“I’ll keep them,” I suggested. I could feel Mrs. Filkins’ heated glare without looking. “I’ll make sure they’re put away somewhere safe until you need them again.”

She stared uncertainly up at me for a few moments and then she smiled. “All right. You can have them. And _only_ you!” she exclaimed as she glared over at Mrs. Filkins. I smiled inwardly at her bravado. She was plucky for such a small thing.

I took her tiny foot in my hand, unloosed the buckles and slipped the shoe off. I laid it carefully on the bed by her side. Then I did the same with the other foot. My body sang with the delight at the feel of her stockinged feet—so small, soft and warm. She watched me as I buckled them back exactly as they would have been brand new. Then I straightened them until the toes were aligned exactly. When I was finished, she smiled up at me in approval.

“Now the dress and the stockings,” I said quietly. “I promise I’ll keep them all safe for you.”

She nodded compliantly. I shot Mrs. Filkins a look as I backed away from the bed. She understood what was being silently stated: ‘Get them off of her and be gentle about it or I’ll choke your fat neck.’ I turned my back and listened to the hurried rustle of fabric, the sound of cotton brushing across skin. After a bit more rustling, I was finally told I could turn around. Alice had the dress and stockings lying in her lap. Her eyes were threatening to fill up with tears again. She held them out for me to take.

“Mommy says the dress has to be hung on a hanger or the lace will crumple,” she said with a tearful gulp.

“I’ll do that. Not to worry,” I said as I draped the little dress and stockings neatly across my arm. “I’ll do it as soon as I get home in the morning, and if the lace crumples, I’ll steam it out, I promise,” I assured her with a smile.

Then she reached up and pulled the clasps out of her hair and presented them to me in her little palm. They were black porcelain roses. Most unusual. “These are beautiful, Alice. Truly! I’ve never seen black roses before.” I marveled as I took them from her. I really hadn’t. Did they exist, or were these just baubles that happened to match the black ribbons of her dress?

“My mommy grows roses in the garden. The black ones are my favorite. Mommy says they’re really dark red. I call them night roses because they look black like the night." It was the most words I’d heard come out of her since she'd walked down that hall with such sad eyes. “Mommy calls me her little Night Rose.”

“Night Rose,” I echoed with a whisper. I looked down at her huge sad green eyes and then back at the rose clasps lying in my hand.  _What in God’s name is this precious little girl doing in this miserable place?_ I was determined to find that out as soon as possible. Someone somewhere had made a grievous mistake.

“I don’t like this nightgown,” she pouted as she reached up to scratch at the collar. “It’s itchy.” At that, I heard Mrs. Filkins huff her disgust and leave the room. _Finally._

Alice was now wearing the standard issue for all patients: a plain white shift, shapeless and straight with short sleeves and made out of the roughest and cheapest grade cotton available. Absolutely unsuitable, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“You’ll get used to it.” I smiled. “Just try it for a little while.”

“But it’s ugly,” she pouted again.

“Alice, what are you saying?” I asked, my eyes wide with shock. “Have you not noticed the women creeping by your door, peeking in and trying to get a glimpse of the new girl?"

“No,” she said, looking up at me suspiciously.

I bent my head next to hers. The smell of her hair enveloped me and I heard the blood moving lusciously through her small body. I took note of it all, and locked the memory away for later perusal. “Oh yes, they’ve been walking by the entire time on soft feet. I heard them whispering amongst themselves about you,” I said in a low conspiratorial whisper.

“What were they saying?” she whispered back just as quietly

“They’re wondering why there’s a queen staying here now. They’re mesmerized by your beauty and poise, and they’re wondering why your nightgown looks so lovely on _you_ , while it looks absolutely hideous on _them_.”

“They are?” she asked, her eyes wide. I nodded. “They think I’m a queen??” she asked incredulously.

“Oh, yes,” I said with a smile and a wink.

She studied me for a long time before she finally let out a high tinkling laugh. “That’s not true. You’re just telling me a nice story like Mommy used to.”

I looked away from her, pretending embarrassment at being found out. She was surprisingly intuitive for such a young child.

“But that’s all right, because I like you, Morgan.”

The laughter was gone and her eyes were serious as they stared back at me. They unnerved me like none ever had. What was behind those eyes? I sensed there was more, but I had no idea what. She appeared to be completely normal. I saw no hint of insanity in her voice or her actions. She was a mystery. I had not encountered a true mystery in a very long time.

“I like you too, Alice.” I had earned her complete trust in little short of a half an hour. The question now was, what should I do with it? “Do you think you could lie down now and sleep?”

She nodded silently and then lay down on her side, her head barely making a dent in the pillow. I pulled the cotton sheet up to her chin. The fear was starting to creep back into her eyes, but I chased it away. “I’ll be here all night. Every time I pass your door, I’ll come in to check on you. You won’t be alone.” 

“Will you be here in the morning?” she asked in a small, lonely voice.

“No. I only work nights. I’m sorry,” I murmured. “But I’ll be back tomorrow evening before sunset. I promise.” I silently cursed my need to hide from the day as a tear slid slowly down her cheek. Helplessness was an unfamiliar feeling. I did not care for it. “I have to go now. There are other patients who need me.” She watched me leave; I felt her gaze on my back. But, as promised, I would see her many more times before this night was done.

As I turned the corner to resume my duties, Mrs. Filkins was waiting for me with a disapproving look upon her face.

“We do not have time to molly coddle patients, Mr. Grant. If you think, for one minute, that she is going to get that kind of treatment from _me_ , you’ve very badly mistaken. She’s no better than anyone else in this hospital.” 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds, Mrs. Filkins,” I said, humbling myself. “It’s just that she reminds me of my younger sister.” The lie slid effortlessly from my lips. Centuries of practice.

“Your sister?” Mrs. Filkins’ interest immediately perked up. Out of necessity, I had kept my background carefully vague. Even a morsel of information would be considered fodder for the rumor mill in the hospital.

“Yes. My sister died when she was small, about Alice’s age. The consumption took her,” I said with feigned sadness. “Alice reminds me so much of her.”

Mrs. Filkins murmured her belated condolences before offering to move Alice to another ward, away from my care. The memory of her scent made any such idea preposterous. I would never be able to be away from her now.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “As a matter of fact, I think it might help me deal with my grief.”

“Of course,” she murmured. And with that, she left me alone with my duties...and my thoughts...the most important one being: What am I going to do about Alice?


	6. Adjustments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very difficult chapter for me to write. Alice’s simple sentences brought back memories I had thought were long forgotten. I used to have a dear, dear relative by marriage that spent some time in a mental hospital in Virginia. She talked to me about the experience, and everything she related was horrible and heartbreaking. But the one thing that stuck with me after all these years was her description of the sounds in that place. According to her, there was ALWAYS someone crying, wailing, screaming, or murmuring incoherent phrases while rocking themselves, talking aloud to nonexistent people. And this went on all the time, day and night. She said the sounds nearly drove her insane. (She was admitted for depression.) She’s dead now, after committing suicide a few years ago. Her experience with the mental hospital, by the way, happened in the 1970s. A long way from 1906, but some things never change. 
> 
> Also…the communal shower scene comes from me personally watching my mother, in a nursing home, being wheeled, completely nude down the hall for a communal washing. It was the most degrading and dehumanizing thing I have ever witnessed. I cried for my mother that day…and I cry for Alice now.

**~ ALICE ~**  

I opened my eyes and saw a yellow wall. _My room isn’t yellow. Where am I?_  Then I remembered. Mommy and Daddy. Mrs. Filkins. Morgan. It wasn’t a dream, after all. It was real.

It was almost daylight. At home, I would be sitting at the kitchen table, hungry and waiting for my breakfast and watching my mommy feed Cynthia. Not here. I didn’t know what it was going to be like in this place. _I hope Mrs. Filkins isn’t working._

I needed to go to the bathroom, but there was no water closet, only a chamber pot. I hated using those. My house had a water closet with a bathtub and black and white tiles on the floor. I tried to hold it as long as I could, but I had to go really bad. I ended up using the pot, but I didn’t want to.

 _Why is there always someone crying and yelling here? I hate it._ I put my hands over my ears to make the awful sounds go away, but they wouldn’t.

I was always good at hide and seek. Mommy said it was because I was so little and could curl up into a tiny ball and hide myself from the world. I crawled over to the corner of my bed and curled up with my knees under my chin and waited. It wasn’t long before a nurse came and got me. I was glad it wasn’t Mrs. Filkins, but I didn’t like her. She wasn’t mean, but she wasn’t nice either. She was just…there. 

She took me to a big room of long tables. People were sitting at them and eating. They were all grownups. I didn’t want to be here without my mommy, but the nurse made me sit down and she brought me a tray of terrible looking food. The old woman beside of me was rocking back and forth. _Why is she doing that?_ I wanted away from her. I was so hungry. I looked at the food on the tray. Mommy would never have made me eat that, and they couldn’t make me eat it either. All I did was look down at the table until the nurse came back and got me. She scolded me for not eating, but I didn’t care. Nobody was going to make me eat if I didn’t want to.

Back in my room, I curled up into my ball again and just waited for whatever was going to happen next. A little while later, the same nurse came and got me again. This time she took me to a big gray room with other women standing and sitting around in it. They didn’t have any clothes on. Before I knew what was happening, the nurse had pulled off my gown and I was standing there naked. _I don’t want to do this._  Cold water poured out of pipes sticking out of the walls. I was pushed under the water by the nurse who gave me soap and told to wash. That was when I started crying.

I was back in my room again, curled up and waiting. A doctor came to see me. He seemed nice, but I wasn’t sure. He asked me questions about my awake dreams: What were they like? How many had I had? Had I had any since I had been here in the hospital? Did people talk to me in my head while I was having them? I just shook my head and didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to talk to him. He wouldn’t understand. Mommy was the only one who understood my dreams. She told me I was special and that I should not let other childrens' mean words bother me. But even Mommy didn’t like for me to talk about them. I think they scared her. They scared me too, sometimes. The sad ones, especially.

After the doctor left, I was taken to lunch. I didn’t eat anything again. My stomach was growling, but I wasn’t going to eat their terrible food.

Then I was back in my room again, curled up and waiting. But nothing else happened. Nobody came to see me. Nobody came to talk to me.

_Mommy?  Daddy?_

“Morgan?” I whispered aloud. I knew he wouldn’t answer. He wasn’t here. “Morgan?” I asked in a louder voice. No one was around to hear me or see me start to cry.  _“Morgan!”_ I sobbed loudly. The tears I had been holding inside of me gushed out. I couldn’t keep them from coming. I lay down and curled up into my little ball and cried for the only person left who cared about me.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

I arrived home just as the sun was beginning its peek over the horizon. I shut the door of my small, modest house tightly against the coming day. The first thing I did was search out a wooden hangar for Alice’s dress. It was pointless, really. She was never going to have need of that dress again, or the shoes. But I’d promised her. I couldn’t, in good conscience, go back on my word. I hung it on a hook by the door, then stood back and pondered the coming hours. Usually I would have spent the daylight reading. It was a passion of mine, the only indulgence I allowed myself now.

The inside of my house would have puzzled the average human. Since I didn’t eat or drink, there was no cook stove or ice chest. No need of a water closet either. Any cleansing of my body was easily taken care of at the hospital. There were no gaslights or new-fangled electric lights to be found. On the rare occasion I was home at night, I read by lamplight, or candlelight. A small closet held the meager assortment of clothes I required. 

The majority of the walls of my house were covered in shelves, and those shelves were stuffed with books, of all types, sizes and subjects. I read constantly. I bought every single book that sparked even a tiny flame of interest in me and added it to my collection. I was a firm believer in the acquisition of knowledge. It had been my experience that ignorance was the biggest threat to anyone’s existence. It made you weak and vulnerable. 

The only furniture I possessed was a small wooden kitchen table with four chairs. No one had ever sat in three of them—no one ever would. And one other piece—my one glaring splurge of material indulgence—was a large and comfortable blue Chesterfield sofa that took up nearly one whole wall of the house. I’d spent many a day stretched out on it while enjoying the pleasures of a good book. But today was not going to be one of those days. Reading was the farthest thing from my mind. I glanced over at the little dress hanging by the door. It was Alice who was going to be occupying my thoughts this day.

I sat down at the table and began analyzing the past hours. It made me strangely uneasy to realize that Alice terrified me. Such a small little girl had the ability to bring my past rushing back in one moment of agonizing pain. The power she had over my body was unnerving. I'd thought all of that was behind me.

 _The only way to deal with fear is to face it head on._ I bitterly laughed out loud as that thought went through my mind. Who was I fooling? I’d been running from my fears for hundreds of years. The safety I enjoyed in Biloxi was only temporary. I’d be running again before too long.

But I had Alice to consider now. Besides the fear, I also had to acknowledge my deep connection to her. I’d only known her for a few hours, but I now knew with a cold certainty that I would never be able to pick up and leave like before. Leaving her behind, alone and helpless in that hospital, would be unconscionable. 

Her scent permeated my clothes, my hair, my skin, and now, because of her clothing, it filtered throughout my house. I thought briefly about ripping the clothes from my body and discarding them forever, but it would be a futile gesture. I could never rid my mind of her alluring smell, and that was where her power lay. I sighed aloud and steeled myself for what I knew had to be done. I got up and took the small dress off of the hangar and laid it flat on the table. I just sat and stared at it for the longest time. I was afraid to touch it, I realized. A vampire such as myself, afraid to touch a scrap of cloth! If I wasn’t so filled with a cold dread it would have been enormously humorous.

Finally I gathered the courage to run my fingers along the lace. I was surprised to see my hand shaking. I felt curiously detached as I watched my fingers caress the fabric; it felt like they belonged to someone else, but my mind was playing tricks on me. They were mine: long, pale fingers untouched by the calluses of hard labor; fingers that had brought moans of delight from many a woman throughout the years; fingers that had felt the beautiful crush of bone beneath them; fingers that had squeezed the life out of countless human throats; fingers that had ripped flesh in pure joy. They trembled now as I gathered the dress in my hand and pulled it to my face. I cringed at the thought of what was coming, but it was better to do it here where no one could witness the human façade dropping from my face. I buried my face in the dress and breathed her scent deep into my body. I was stunned once again at the power of that smell.

The results were instant: pleasurable and painful, both at once. The scent enveloped my mind like the soft embrace of a lover. I moaned aloud at the pleasure of it. Seductive voices snaked through my head, whispering promises of pleasure beyond all imagination. Tendrils of desire pushed and prodded, searching for an opening—just a small one would be all that was needed. I burned with the blood lust and venom filled my mouth. I felt my body become tense as it thrummed with a hard, pressing need that I hadn’t experienced in a long, long while. If anyone had happened to be watching, they would have thought I was in the throes of sexual ecstasy, such was the enormity of pleasure her scent brought.

Sex, blood, and death: a sick and twisted combination that was my demon’s most favorite dish, and I’d feasted from that table and gorged myself with glee for centuries. A part of me was horrified and profoundly ashamed at thinking such thoughts about a small child, but the blood thirsty demon inside of me held no such qualms. He made no distinctions when it came to pleasure and food.

I violently threw the dress as far away from me as possible. In this small house it was a ridiculously stupid act. I was gasping and whimpering like a small, helpless child as I realized that there was no way to escape it. I couldn’t leave her. It was physically impossible now. The control and the rigid barriers that I had built inside me these last years were my only defense against the newly-awakened demon. I would concentrate all my power and single-minded will on strengthening that control.

Of one thing I was now absolutely certain: Alice was mine. She belonged to me. Her fate had been sealed the moment I'd caught her scent.

The question now was: Who was going to take possession of her soul? Me…or the demon?


	7. Time

**~ MORGAN ~**  

I arrived at the hospital at sunset, eager to check in on Alice and start my duties for the night. Before I could do either one, Mrs. Filkins cornered me in hallway.

“Mr. Grant, I have some information about Alice that you may be interested in,” she said smugly.

It didn’t escape my attention that we were no longer referring to each other by our first names. Mrs. Filkins was evidently nursing a grudge that had little chance of dissipating anytime soon. “What have you found out? Why is she here?” I asked in hushed tones. Patient information was supposed to be confidential, but the nursing staff had ways of finding out anything they wanted to.

“Her full name is Mary Alice Brandon. And—“ She looked at me with gleeful, knowing eyes. “—she’s a _witch_.”

I was immediately filled with disbelief and then anger. How could people be so ignorant? There was absolutely no possibility that Alice was a witch. The idea was ludicrous. I’d had associations with many a real witch in my day, and they positively reeked of evil. I'd felt no such emanations from Alice. “That is simply preposterous,” I chided. “Why do you say that?”

“Because—“ She angled her head toward mine. “—she has visions. She can see the future. And who else but Satan gives someone an evil power like that?”

I stared back at her in astonishment. Visions? Seeing the future? I’d seen charlatans throughout the centuries who'd claimed to have that power, but I had never been fully convinced of their truthfulness. There were vampires of course, who boasted the gift—the most powerful one was a feared member of the Volturi—but in a human? I had to admit a strong sense of curiosity about Alice now. Part of her mystery had been revealed to me, but I suspected there was more to be discovered. What was the nature of her visions? How far into the future could she see? Could she only see humans? Could she see vampires? Could she see more than the future? The past, perhaps? Did she have to touch someone for them to occur? So many unanswered questions, and I had all the time in the world to uncover the answers. It was with a new-found sense of excitement that I commenced to extricate myself from Mrs. Filkins so that I could begin.

“Mr. Grant, wait!” she ordered. “Alice is refusing to eat. She hasn’t eaten all day, and her doctor has left specific orders that we are to make sure that she eats.”

“Make sure?” I asked hesitantly. I wondered why Mrs. Filkins was telling me this. She was quite capable, both physically and emotionally, of holding Alice down and forcing the food down her throat. I suspected the reason was that Mrs. Filkins was a small bit afraid of our little Alice. The thought made me perversely happy.

“He seems very interested in her case, at least that’s what my friend on the day shift tells me. He wants her to stay strong and healthy. I suppose he’s afraid if she gets sick her visions might stop.”

I sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I left Mrs. Filkins, quickly stocked my cart with patient necessities and made my way hurriedly to Alice. I left the cart outside the door and walked into her room. What I saw saddened me immensely. Alice was curled into a tiny ball that took up only a very small area of the bed. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her legs. Every now and then her body would jerk as she snubbed from crying.

“Alice,” I whispered softly. She directed one red and swollen eye in my direction, but other than that, no response. I walked cautiously over to her bedside and stood near her. “Can you sit up for me?” No response. Just that vivid green bloodshot eye watching me warily. “Alice...” I prompted.

There was nothing to do but offer her my hand. I stretched my fingers toward her. There was a small tremble in them that was noticeable only to me. The thought of touching her again terrified and excited me. I held my hand suspended in mid air for the longest time before she finally responded. Her tiny hand reached tentatively for mine. Her small warm fingers wrapped themselves around my large, cool ones. My hand tingled at her touch; ghostly voices whispered through my head as her scent stirred the air. I clamped down on them and focused on Alice’s eyes. My gaze slid over hers briefly, just enough to instill a sense of calm in her. I tugged on her fingers, and she gradually sat up into an upright position. Her knees were still pulled up under her chin, but at least I could see her face now. With some small bit of relief, I let go of her hand.

“You weren’t here,” she whispered in an accusatory voice. _Aaah, she’s angry with me._

“I told you I only work nights, remember?”

“Nobody talked to me all day.”

“You must have been very lonely and scared,” I said. “I’m sorry.” Then her eyes filled with tears that threatened, with only a blink, to spill down her cheeks. “Did anyone hurt you in any way?” _God help them if they did._

She silently shook her head from side to side. This situation was totally unacceptable. Alice needed meaningful human contact during the day or the loneliness was going to tear her apart. I made a mental note to begin the search for a caring day shift nurse who could watch over her and provide some comfort. And, perhaps I could provide her with some mental stimulation in the form of books or magazines.

“I’m told you’re not eating.” I watched in amazement as this scared little child transformed into a stubborn ball of iron will with blazing green eyes.

“I don’t have to eat if I don’t want to! And nobody can make me!”

“I know it’s probably not the type of food you’re used to, but you have to eat, Alice, or….” My voice trailed off, leaving her to wonder what horrid consequences lay in store for her.

She waited a few moments before finally asking, “Or what?”

“We’ll have to find another queen, a replacement for you,” I answered, sighing haplessly.

Her brows pulled together in a determined frown, but she said nothing.

“We can’t have a skinny queen, now can we? Queens are supposed to be robust and healthy.” I explained. “When Queen Victoria died, she was quite… _ample._ ”

“Ample?” she asked with a puzzled frown.

“Fat.” I chuckled. Her face lit up and her eyes sparkled with mirth. She giggled. I folded one arm behind my back, and offered her my other hand. “Would you care to take High Tea with me this evening, my Queen?” I asked formally.

“What’s High Tea?” she asked, giggling again, as she grasped my fingers.

“Well, in reality it’s a little late in the day for High Tea, but we can pretend, can’t we?” I asked, smiling. She nodded and smiled back. “High Tea is an eating and social occasion in England. You normally eat savories—those are tiny sandwiches—along with scones, desserts and tea. Of course, I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with whatever is left in the hospital’s kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sniffed as she pulled her chin up haughtily. "I think that will be splendid!"

I smiled at her attempt at queenly snobbishness. It was fairly good for a first try. She grabbed my hand and hopped down off of the bed. She straightened her gown and pulled her body up straight. I smiled down at her as she transformed herself from a tiny little waif in a rough cotton dress to a regal and poised young lady that could quite easily fill the shoes of any respectable queen. I showed her how a queen should hold her subject’s hand—no grasping at fingers, that was for commoners. As we walked down the hall to the deserted kitchen and eating area, her hand lightly rested flat on top of mine, as was proper for a monarch.

She ate heartily and consumed everything I placed before her. While she was eating, I watched her thoughtfully as I pondered her future,  _our_ future. I still had so much more to learn about her before that decision could be made. Until then, I decided to make it my responsibility to see to her education. As soon as I could gather the necessary texts, we would start. Ignorance led to vulnerability, and with her possible gift, she could not afford to be weak.

“Alice, could I ask something of you?” She nodded silently. “If I promise to eat dinner with you every evening, will you promise me that you’ll eat during the day?”

“Yes,” she answered with a small smile.

I sighed inwardly in relief. The doctor was right, although for all the wrong reasons. I wasn’t interested in the causes of her gift and I had no interest whatsoever in the “treatment” of it. My interest lay in its _possibilities_. And to discover those possibilities, I needed time—time to study her; time to educate her; time to let her mature; time to plan our future.


	8. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few historical tidbits before you read. All of the magazines mentioned were in print and in circulation in 1906. All were first published in the late 1800s. Crayola crayons were first introduced to the public in 1903 in a box of eight basic colors. The disaster mentioned in this chapter actually did happen on the date given. Also, I have taken an author’s liberty in making Alice’s visions more far-reaching than just the people around her.

**~ MORGAN ~**

I returned Alice to her room and got her settled in for the night. She promised me once again that she would eat her meals tomorrow if, and only if, I ate the evening meal with her. I smiled inwardly at her pluck. She may have been small, alone and afraid, but she seemed to have no difficulty discerning what she wanted and how to get it. She was most definitely an intriguing little personality.

I spent the rest of my shift at my normal duties, checking in on Alice every time I passed her room. When all my work was caught up and Alice was asleep, I ventured into another wing of the hospital in search of a nurse with a kind heart. Fortunately, there were two on shift who were eager to help me with my problem. They’d heard about a little girl being admitted, but did not know anything about her. When I briefly relayed the circumstances surrounding Alice’s admittance and revealed her abject loneliness during the day, both of the nurses were overcome with sadness and a determination to help any way that they could. They set off with purposeful strides and in a matter of several minutes had returned with more bounty than I could have ever hoped for. They’d raided the nurses’ break room and even their own personal storage bins for cast off women's magazines. _Perfect._

One of the nurses, who introduced herself as Mary Grace Belmore, offered to bring Alice a box of crayons, some blank paper and a few children’s books tomorrow evening. I murmured a heartfelt 'thank you' and invited her to visit Alice tomorrow and deliver the items personally. Perhaps upon meeting our precious little Alice, she’d be moved to rearrange her working schedule. I could only hope it would be so.

I returned the magazines to Alice’s room and laid them at the foot of her bed where she’d be sure to see them in the morning: Good Housekeeping. McCall’s Magazine. Vogue. Harper’s Bazaar and Elite Styles. Everything a sophisticated woman of culture needed to know could be found between their pages, including fashion, cooking, etiquette, beauty, homemaking and literature.

I left work before daybreak feeling more positive about Alice’s future. She had something to occupy her for now, while I worked on gathering the necessary texts to start her education. Unfortunately, my library did not contain any children’s books. I sighed aloud at the thought of having, once again, to call upon Miss Tindell for assistance. Emeline Tindell, the ever-hopeful spinster who had plagued my very existence since I'd first arrived in Biloxi. Miss Tindell held the unsubstantiated opinion that I needed a woman in my life, and often hinted that she would be an appropriate and wise choice. Countless polite but firm rebuffs still failed to convince her that I had absolutely no need of a mate. Every association with her was an excruciating exercise in self-restraint. The woman had no conception of who she was dealing with. If she had, she would have rejoiced in my disinterest and thanked her God that she had been spared my affections. I only tolerated her because she served a much needed purpose: a connection to the daylight and all of its resources. 

She was due to grace me with her perfectly coiffed presence tomorrow evening before I left for work. We had established a weekly schedule whereupon she would take my list of needed items and return the next day, if possible, with my supplies. Conversation was kept to a minimum, and always conducted on my small porch, much to her consternation. I spent the day preparing my list of necessities for her arrival tomorrow. For Alice, I listed subject areas in which I would like to find a corresponding text: history, geography, mathematics and science, any books on reading instruction that were available, and some suitable fiction for young children, or girls specifically. On the spur of the moment, I added a frivolous item that might possibly help Alice with her loneliness.

When the list was complete, I settled myself onto the sofa and spent the rest of the day in reading and contemplation. Occasionally I’d steal a glance over at the door where Alice’s little lace dress hung once again. I was looking forward to the evening with anticipation. No books were going to be necessary for our first lesson. For tonight, I would begin my study of Mary Alice Brandon. She was going to assist me by telling me everything about her visions.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

I woke up hungry and by myself again. _I miss Morgan._ Then I remembered he was going to eat dinner with me tonight, but only if I did what I promised. So, I was a good girl today. I ate all of the terrible breakfast and most of the awful lunch, and I didn’t cry. Not once.

Nobody talked to me again, but that was all right, because someone had put magazines on my bed last night. Was it Morgan? It had to be.  I smiled and grabbed the magazines. I didn’t know the names of them, but I could tell by looking at the fronts that Mommy used to read two of them. I looked at those first.  _Pretty dresses, hats, shoes! So many pictures!_ I wished I knew what the words said, but I didn’t know how to read. It didn’t really matter. I liked the pictures the best anyway.

I looked and looked at all the books, over and over again. Then the doctor came in and talked to me for a long time. He asked me the same questions. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to tell him anything and he couldn’t make me.

After he left, I looked at the magazines again. I picked out pretty hats, shoes and dresses. I imagined myself wearing them. I looked at pictures of food that made me hungry. I looked at everything, and waited for Morgan.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

No sooner had I arrived for work that evening, than I was accosted in the hall by Mrs. Filkins. I had a suspicion that this was going to become a daily ritual.

“Are you responsible for giving Alice those shameful magazines?” Righteous indignation was oozing out of her every pore.

“She needed something to occupy her mind during the day. I saw nothing wrong with them.”

“Well, you made a poor decision. Those rags aren’t fit for any respectable woman to read, let alone a child! The stories in them are atrocious!”

“They’re simply fashion and homemaking magazines. I see no harm in them. Besides, Alice can’t read.” My patience with this ignorant woman was nearing its very short end. An image flashed through my mind of my fingers digging deep into her neck, crushing her windpipe and shutting her up forever. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to work.” Without waiting for a response from her, I turned on my heel and quickly walked away.

I stopped by Alice’s room first. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed with the magazines spread out all around her. Bits of torn paper were laid out in rows across the end of her bed. Puzzled, I walked in to get a closer look. “Hello, Alice,” I said softly.

She greeted me in return with a dazzling smile. “Morgan!”

I smiled in dismay. “What have you done to the magazines?” 

“I’m making paper dolls,” she explained. “I had some at home, but I made my own. Come and see!”

Closer inspection revealed a dozen paper dolls with varying sized hats, dresses, shoes and bodies. None matched, of course. She’d torn the various parts from separate pictures, all of which were on a different scale. It was quite humorous actually, but I contained my laughter at the risk of hurting her feelings. “That’s very clever!” I exclaimed.

Then she went on to explain which outfit would be best for a Sunday outing, which would never do for a party, and which shoes should never be worn with which dress. I was astounded at her fashion sense, and in one so young. Her mother’s influence, no doubt. I made a mental note to add paper dolls to my list of items for Miss Tindell.

“I ate, just like I promised,” she said. “So, you’ll eat with me tonight, right?

“I have to see to my other patients, but I’ll return at dinner, just as we agreed,” I said, smiling.

She beamed with pleasure. I left her hunched over a magazine, her tiny fingers tearing paper and fitting the pieces together on her bed.

I returned a couple of hours later as promised with her dinner and a chair. I received an hour dinner break each evening. Having no need of food, I usually continued working. That was going to change. From now on, my hour long break would be spent in Alice’s room. I helped her gather her dolls into a nice, neat stack, which I placed on the cabinet by her wash basin. I pulled the chair beside her bed and waited for an opportune time to start my questioning. Alice was already ahead of me.

“Where’s your dinner?” she asked as she ate.

“I’ve already eaten.”

“You promised you were going to eat with me. You’re not eating,” she pouted.

I smiled. “I’d rather spend my time talking with you. And a young lady does not speak with her mouth full of food,” I chided good-naturedly.

“Next time you need to eat your dinner with _me_ ,” she stated flatly, her brows pulled together in a tiny frown.

I sighed inwardly at the thought of having to choke down that disgusting food, but, if it would make her happy, I’d gladly do it. “I thought we might talk for a bit tonight,” I said hesitantly. “Would you mind answering some questions for me?

“About what?” she asked, frowning suspiciously.

I hesitated. Did she trust me enough to confide in me? Time to find out. “I know why you are in this hospital,” I said quietly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She stopped eating and stared at her food in silence. I waited patiently as she worked through it in her mind.

“You won’t understand,” she whispered. “Nobody does but Mommy.”

“You can tell me anything. I’ll understand. And if I don’t, you can help me to understand.”

She raised her eyes to mine and stared intently, as if she were trying to see inside my soul. I slid my eyes away from hers, fixing them on a point just below her lashes, and waited.

“I see things.” Her voice was hesitant, soft and scared.

“Where do you see them?”

“Inside my head.”

Both of our voices were hushed now, in tones meant to hold secrets. "What do you see?"

“They’re like pictures in a book. Of people, and bad things.”

“Just bad things?”

“Not all the time. Sometimes it's happy things.”

“Do you only see things that are _going_ to happen?" She nodded silently. “Are they strangers or people you know?”

“Sometimes I don’t know them. Sometimes I only know them a little bit. But most of the time I do,” she whispered. Her eyes were filling with tears.

“Have you had any since you got here?

“No.” A tear slid down her cheek. I wanted so desperately to wipe it away with my finger, but I resisted the urge.

“Can you control them? Or do they just appear any time?”

“Just any time," she answered with a shrug. I wondered if she’d ever tried to control them. Probably not. She was too young to have such strong mind control. Perhaps with practice?

“How long have you had these visions?”

“I’ve always had them.”

I sat silently and pondered everything she’d told me. Her gift was truly fascinating. Unfortunately, the weight of it was burdening her soul beyond her limited capabilities of handling it. I made a vow to myself to help her all that I could. “Would it be possible for you to tell me about the last vision you had?”

She nodded and I waited, rather impatiently, for her to begin. “I was playing in my room with Puppy. He’s my dog,” she said with a sad smile. “Then the pictures started. I saw fire and people screaming and running like they were scared. Houses fell down on top of people, and they were lying on the ground everywhere.”

The tears were falling in a continual stream now. I deeply regretted the pain I was causing her in my selfish quest for understanding, but unfortunately, it was necessary.

“I started crying and ran to tell Mommy and Daddy what I saw. Daddy got mad and Mommy hugged me and told me it would be all right. They had a big fight that night and I didn’t say anything about it anymore.” She fell silent for a few moments as she wiped the tears from her face. “Then…it happened.” A small desperate sob escaped her throat.

“What happened?”

“What I saw. It happened. I heard Mommy and Daddy talking about it. They said it was an… _earthquake_ …somewhere far off. I can’t remember the name.”

“How long ago was this vision?” I asked uneasily.

“This Easter. I remember because I was wearing my new dress and shoes.”

 _Easter. April 15th. Dear God._ I sat back in my chair, stunned into silence at her revelation. If what she was telling me was true, she had foreseen the worst catastrophe to hit California in recorded history. The San Francisco earthquake had left total devastation in its wake on April 18, 1906—barely two months ago, and they were still pulling bodies from the rubble.

“Do you know what an earthquake is? Did your parents talk with you about it?”

“No,” she murmured.

A cold anger ran through me. How could her parents expect her to deal with something so catastrophic without guidance? For the next few minutes, I explained, in simple vocabulary, all about earthquakes. She followed my every word and even asked surprisingly pertinent questions along the way. The last one she asked brought me up short.

“Did a lot of people die?”

I hesitated a bit too long. Tears pooled in her eyes again as she realized the reason behind my hesitation. “Yes,” I answered. I could already tell by her expression what she was thinking. “You couldn’t have helped them, Alice.”

She cried quietly as I tried to convince her that people would not have listened to her, that she could have shouted it from the mountain tops and no one would have paid her any mind, that people didn’t understand her gift and it was human nature to fear what is not understood. I tried to reason with her, but my arguments fell on deaf ears and a stubborn young mind.

“But, that wasn’t the last one,” she finally said after her tears had stopped.

“You had another?” I asked curiously.

“Yes. Mommy and Daddy had a lot of fights after that,” she said softly. “One night, I saw me in this place. I knew I was coming here.”

I didn’t know how to respond to her, let alone imagine the burden her small heart was carrying. To think that she had seen her own future and knew the loss that was to come saddened me beyond belief.

“Why are your eyes that color?” she asked suddenly and with a frown.

I was taken aback momentarily at the sudden change of subject, but recovered quickly enough to manufacture a suitable lie. “They’ve been that way since I was born.” Not a lie really. I'd just neglected to mention _which_ birth.

“They’re the same color as Puppy’s fur,” she murmured. Then she fell silent and no amount of prodding on my part could get her to talk further. I gave her back the paper dolls, took away the rest of her uneaten meal, and prepared to leave and assume my duties.

I stood in her doorway and watched her play. She was oblivious to everything but the small scraps of paper lying strewn across her bed. I now had a dilemma on my hands. How could I keep her safe from her doctor and his treatments while at the same time studying her myself? She obviously had no control over the visions. If one happened in my absence, I shuddered at the thought of what would be done to her. And God forbid, one should take place in Mrs. Filkin’s presence.

I desperately needed an ally on the day shift, someone understanding whom I could confide in, someone who might be able to convince her to keep them to herself. I set my mental sights on Mary Grace Belmore, the kind nurse who’d promised to bring her crayons and books tonight. As soon as I got caught up with my duties, I was going to pay Miss Belmore a visit. It was time she met Alice.


	9. A New Friend

**~ MORGAN ~**

A little over an hour later, I left my wing in search of Miss Belmore. We nearly collided head on as we were both hurriedly rounding a corner.

“Oh! Mr. Grant!” she exclaimed. “Excuse me.”

“Apologies are not necessary, Miss Belmore. I was coming to see if you could visit Alice before she prepares for bed.”

“That’s just where I was headed,” she answered, smiling. Her arms were filled with the gifts she’d promised.

I turned on my heel and gestured for her to proceed. Along the way, I explained a little more in depth about Alice’s situation, including the visions. I was surprised at Miss Belmore’s reaction. None of that witch nonsense from her. She was deeply intrigued at the idea and bombarded me with questions about it until we were near Alice’s door.

Miss Belmore entered her room ahead of me. She sat her gifts on the cabinet and awaited my introduction. Alice was still playing with the magazines and her homemade paper dolls. She greeted us with a brilliant smile.

“Morgan!” she chirped happily.

“I have someone I’d like you to meet.” I smiled as we both approached her bed. “This is Miss Mary Grace Belmore. Miss Belmore, this is Mary Alice Brandon.”

Miss Belmore nodded her head and smiled warmly. “So nice to meet you, Alice. And we have the same first name.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Alice smiled in return. “I was named after my grandmother. What about you?”

“My mother,” Miss Belmore replied.

Alice smiled up at Miss Belmore, her eyes sparkling with happiness. I sighed in relief.

“Do you want to see my paper dolls?” Alice asked excitedly.

 Miss Belmore moved closer to Alice's bed. "Oh my, yes!"

“Well, perhaps I’ll leave you two ladies alone to get acquainted.” No one objected, so I moved quietly toward the door. Before leaving, I stole one last glance over my shoulder. They were already in deep discussion about her dolls and fashion, oblivious to everything else around them. As I left, I said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening: _Please let Miss Belmore fall as hopelessly in love with Alice as I have._

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty,” she replied. “And how old are _you?_ ”

“Six,” I answered. “Miss Belmore, are you Morgan’s friend?”

“Oh, please, call me Mary Grace, and to answer your question, we’re co-workers. I don’t really know him that well. We work in different parts of the hospital. Why do you ask?”

I just shrugged my shoulders. “He’s a nice man.”

“I imagine he is,” she said. “He cares about you a great deal. I know that much about him already.”

“He’s my only friend here.”

“I hope you’ll consider me your friend also,” she answered.

I looked up at her friendly face. She was so pretty. She wore her hair in a chignon like Mommy’s, but hers was blond and shiny. Her eyes were blue like the sky, and her skin was smooth like milk. She was taller than Mommy, but thin like her.

“Do you wear a corset?” Her waist was really small. Mommy wore a corset sometimes to makes hers that small. I couldn’t wait until I was big enough to wear a corset.

“No,” she answered, laughing. “Oh my heavens, I’d die if I had to work in a corset. No, I’m just skinny.”

“No you’re not.” I giggled. “You’re a 'natural beauty'. That’s what my mommy calls it when you’re pretty without trying.”

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you, Alice.”

We talked for awhile about my Mommy, Daddy and sister. She asked me a lot of questions about them. It made me sad. When I told her about Puppy, she told me about _her_ dog. She had a girl dog and she sounded almost exactly like Puppy. I laughed when she said they should get married and have lots of beautiful doggy babies together. Then she told me a little about her family. She lived with her mommy and daddy and helped take care of her grandmother who was very bad sick. We talked for a long time about my favorite things: clothes and shoes and hats, which were her favorite things, too.  _I think I like Mary Grace. She’s a proper young lady, like me._

“You know, I have a niece almost the same age as you, and she’s so spoiled by her parents. Oh my word." She put her hand over her heart. “That child has so many toys she couldn’t play with them all if she played all day and all night for an entire week.”

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine that.

“Well, I may be exaggerating a bit. But still, she has too many toys for just one small little girl. So, I sneaked a few from her room to give to you. She’ll never miss them,” she whispered quietly with a smile.

I squealed when she gave me the box of crayons and paper. _I love to color!_ “I used to have a box of crayons, but Puppy chewed them up one night while I was asleep. Now I can color all day! Thank you!”

“I also have some books for you,” she added. She handed them to me one-by-one and told me the name of each one. She also told me a little bit of what each one was about. I asked her to read them to me, but she said she had to go back to work in a few minutes.

“I wish you worked on my side of the hospital.” I sighed. “Mrs. Filkins is so mean.” I scrunched my nose up and made a really ugly face.

Mary Grace laughed quietly. “You do know why Mrs. Filkins is so mean, don’t you?” 

“No. Why?” I asked in a whisper. This sounded like a secret and I _liked_ secrets.

She leaned close and lowered her voice.  "Well, I heard that one hot summer day, Mrs. Filkins was drinking a tall glass of iced tea with lemon. She was determined to get the last drop of tea out of that glass, so she turned it straight up and accidentally swallowed the slice of lemon. It got stuck in her throat, and she’s been sour ever since,” she finished, smiling.

I thought about that for a minute, and then I covered my mouth and giggled until my sides hurt. “You’re just like Morgan! He tells me silly stories like that too!”

She laughed with me, but then got a serious look on her face and reached for my hand. “Has she hurt you?”

“Only once. She slapped me when I wouldn’t take my pretty dress and shoes off, but Morgan stopped her.”

Mary Grace muttered something under her breath that I didn’t understand. She held my hand and kissed me on the forehead. “Would you mind if I came to visit you tomorrow?”

“No, you can eat dinner with me and Morgan,” I said excitedly.

“I’ll ask him to make sure it’s all right, and if it is, I’ll bring a special surprise for you. Would you like that?” she asked with a smile.

“Ooh, I love surprises!” 

“It’s a date then. If Mr. Grant says it’s all right,” she answered. “I’m afraid I must be getting back to my work now.”

I didn’t want her to leave. I loved Morgan, but he didn’t know anything about clothes and dolls. Mary Grace knew everything about them. “Can I hug you goodnight?”

“Oh, my sweet Alice,” she crooned softly. “Of course you can.”

She wrapped her arms around me and I squeezed mine around her neck. She had on perfume, not like Mommy’s, but it still smelled nice. She ran her hand down the back of my hair and kissed my head, just like Mommy used to. I hid my face in her neck and started to cry. I couldn’t help it. I tried to stop, but the tears kept coming and coming. She cooed softly to me and rocked me in her arms. She told me everything was going to be all right, but I knew it wasn’t. She pulled me back so she could look at me. Her face was sad as she pushed my hair back from my face, and wiped my tears away with her soft fingers.

“I miss my mommy,” I snubbed.

“I know you do. I’m so sorry, but Mr. Grant and I will take care of you. I promise.”

I nodded without saying a word. Right then Morgan walked back into the room and waited by the door.

“I have to go now,” she said sadly. “You sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow evening, hopefully.”

“Goodnight,” I said, still sniffing.

As she started to leave, I heard Morgan speak to her. “A moment, Miss Belmore. If you please?”

They both stepped out into the hall where I couldn’t hear them. I looked at the pictures in my new books and tried not to think of my pink room and my Puppy and my mommy.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

“A moment, Miss Belmore. If you please?” I asked as she was leaving. We stepped out into the hall where Alice couldn’t overhear us.

“That child is hurting, badly.” Her eyes were glistening with tears. I knew at that moment that I had chosen my ally well.

“I’m aware of that. I was hoping that you may consider changing your work schedule so that you could be with her during the day. Evidently the day nurses are very busy and hardly pay her any mind.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.” She sighed. “My situation at home requires me to be available during the day, but I’ll think about it and see if something can be arranged. She’s a precious little girl, and so endearing.”

“That she is,” I agreed.

She smiled as she wiped a stray tear away. “By the way, she invited me to dine with you both tomorrow evening.”

I smiled graciously. “That sounds nice. I’ll look forward to it.” 

She nodded and then hurried off to resume her duties. I went in to visit with Alice a few more minutes before she had to prepare for bed. “Did you like Miss Belmore?” I asked curiously.

“Yes. She’s funny and so pretty.” Even though her eyes were swollen and red from crying, that didn’t stop a smile from brightening up her tiny face. “Morgan?” she asked. “Do you have a wife?”

I was momentarily taken aback at the question. _What brought this thought into her mind?_  “Uh…no. I don’t.”

“Do you have a lady friend?” Her eyes were locked on mine in a surprisingly intense gaze.

 _Where in the world is this going?_ “No,” I answered shortly.

“Well, who takes care of you then?” she asked with a frown.

“I take care of myself,” I answered with a smile.

“That’s not right,” she said, still frowning. “Mommy says a man will die without a woman to take care of him. I don’t want you to die.”

Her face was serious and intent as she waited for me to respond. “I think your mother was making a joke when she made that remark. I’m still alive, even without a woman taking care of me.”

She sat for a few moments as she thought about it. “Mary Grace would be a good lady friend for you,” she stated finally.

I groaned inwardly as it all became suddenly clear. Our little Alice was turning into a matchmaker. “Although I’m sure Miss Belmore is a wonderful woman, I can assure you that I have absolutely no interest in acquiring a lady friend,” I stated emphatically. She stared back at me with those unfathomable green eyes. I wondered what thoughts were going through that head of hers.

“Don’t you want babies?” she asked in surprise.

I stared back at her in shocked silence. _Babies._  I'd tried being a father once and I'd failed miserably. I wasn't going to try that ever again. Those ordinary human dreams were beyond me now.

“No, I don’t,” I said.

“Well, when I grow up, I’m going to marry a gentleman and have lots and lots of babies,” she said with an unusual degree of assuredness for one so young.

_No Alice, you’re not. You’re going to be with me. **I** am your destiny now._

 


	10. The Vision

**~ MORGAN ~**

Mrs. Filkins walked purposefully into Alice’s room to help her get ready for bed. I stepped out of her way, but lingered at the door and watched her every move. I caught Alice’s eyes and smiled at her, mouthing the words 'good night' silently across the room along with a wink. She giggled and attempted to wink back. She couldn’t quite accomplish it, which made her giggle more. Mrs. Filkins was growing impatient with the both of us, so I smiled, backed out of the doorway and resumed my duties.

I checked in on Alice right before I left work and she was sleeping soundly on her side. She looked so tiny and helpless in the large bed. Her small hands were tucked up under her chin, the thin sheet balled up in her fingers. Her thick, dark hair lay all around her like a soft blanket. A stray piece had fallen across her face and stirred slightly with each of her breaths. I longed to touch her, and brush back the strand of hair, but fear kept me immobilized by her bedside. I argued silently with myself for several minutes before I finally gathered the courage to do it. My fingers trembled slightly as they moved slowly through the air toward her face. Using my index finger, and without touching her cheek, I gently pushed the hair back.

My fingers hovered just above her face, and then, so softly that she couldn’t have possibly felt it, I grazed my fingertips across her cheek. Her skin was hot and silky smooth. I slid them slowly down her neck, stopping and resting my hand lightly over the artery in her neck. The blood lust in me roared to life. Venom poured into my mouth as her blood pulsed underneath my fingers. The pain of the thirst raced through me. It had been too long since I’d hunted and my body’s needs were getting more and more difficult to control. Nevertheless, I gritted my teeth and pushed the ache of the thirst away. I clamped down on it with all the power I possessed, until it dissipated.

Suddenly, Alice took a deep breath and sighed. I reluctantly pulled my trembling hand away and stared down at her sleeping form with a deep sadness. What had she done to deserve this fate that had been handed to her? What kind of god would allow such precious innocence to cross paths with pure evil? It was a pointless question, because there was no God, of course. No deity was going to intervene on her behalf. Alice’s fate lay in my hands and my hands alone. A vampire. A vampire who wanted to kill her. A vampire who wanted to love her.

 

* * *

 

  
Once again, Alice interrupted the serenity of my daylight hours at home. Instead of spending the day reading, my thoughts were continually drawn back to her innocent comments about wives and babies—two topics that had not seriously crossed my mind in centuries.

I fought against the memories of the past, but they continued to haunt me all throughout the day. Snatches of a life long gone flashed through my mind: fiery red eyes, mingled with brown; sleek, black hair brushing seductively across my bare chest; smooth, dusky skin glowing in candlelight. Blood, too much blood. Those memories carried with them a deep, grinding pain. I’d worked long and hard to let go of the agony of those times, to let go of the bitter hate that had ruled my existence for centuries. Then a small slip of a girl had come into my life, and with just her appearance, her scent, her innocent and childish words, it had all come rushing back with a force strong enough to stir the evil that lived within me, an evil I thought I’d purged.

I sighed aloud and tried to concentrate on the book before me. I longed for the peace I’d enjoyed before Alice’s arrival, but of course, now that she was here, I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I sometimes worried about what I would do if her parents ever returned for her. I’d never let them take her, of course, but what would I do? I’d have no choice but to take her myself and leave Biloxi, even though it would most likely mean our deaths. I sighed again at the complicated turn my simple life had suddenly taken, qnd all because of a tiny, black-haired girl with huge green eyes.

Such was the course of my day. Futile thoughts went in endless circles inside my head. I was almost grateful when I heard Miss Tindell’s footsteps on my porch. Any distraction, even one as annoying as her, was welcomed at this point.  Predictably, five minutes into our conversation I was wanting to commit murder. The items on my list had raised her eyebrows and inflamed her curiosity. I was bombarded with endless questions regarding children and my possible state of fatherhood. With gritted teeth and a barely contained violence, I explained to her that the items were for a patient at the hospital, not any offspring of mine. Then I politely, but firmly, sent her on her way with her promise to return with my supplies as soon as possible.

Thankfully, it was nearly dusk and time to return to the hospital. After a long day of fruitless thinking, I welcomed an evening filled with menial tasks with which to occupy my mind. And, I had to admit, I was looking forward to the evening meal with Alice and Miss Belmore. What better way to pass an hour than conversation with two cultured and beautiful young ladies? It had been too long since I’d enjoyed such an indulgence.

 

* * *

 

  
Upon my arrival at the hospital, I was almost immediately accosted by Mrs. Filkins in the hallway. I groaned inwardly. This was becoming an annoyingly predictable routine.

“Mr. Grant,” she whispered. “I have some information regarding our newest patient that you may find interesting.”

My curiosity was immediately piqued. “What is that?”

“I’ve been asking around, talking to friends at church and other places, about Alice’s family,” she said quietly. I waited in silence for her to continue. “Her story is quite the scandal.”

“Scandal?” I asked in astonishment.

“Yes! Seems Alice was enrolled in nursery school this winter. She only attended for a week before she was expelled.” Mrs. Filkin’s practically glowed with pride at her revelation.

“Expelled? For what reason?”

Mrs. Filkins bent her head nearer to mine and lowered her voice accordingly. “She frightened the other children with her visions. A group of parents got together and petitioned for her to be expelled. The very next day, her parents were notified, in person, that Alice was not allowed to return to the school.”  Before I could respond, she continued. “And that’s not all. Her father runs his own construction business in town. Those same parents that had Alice expelled launched a private campaign to drive him out of business. According to my friend, they’re determined to run the whole Brandon family out of Biloxi. Good riddance, I say.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. An entire family was being ostracized because of something the local people were too ignorant to comprehend. I supposed I could understand now why her parents had resorted to committing her to an institution. After Alice’s vision of the earthquake, they must have been terrified of people finding out. It was a sad situation for all involved. “Is that all?”

“Well,” she hesitated. “There _is_ something else, but it’s only a rumor, and I hesitate to spread gossip when there may not be a grain of truth to it.”

 _Since when?_ I thought spitefully. That hadn’t stopped her from most likely telling everyone she knew that Alice was a witch. I purposely withheld comment and waited for her to reason her way out of her moral dilemma. It didn’t take her very long.

“I’ve heard that the parents’ marriage is on shaky ground,” she whispered. “They disagreed on the decision to put Alice in the hospital. The mother didn’t want it and the father was adamantly for it. They’ve been overheard having very disagreeable words with each other, and after church, no less!”

Evidently many people found such tidbits of personal information extremely interesting. I was not one of them. My only concern was whether the parents might one day return for Alice. That I would not allow. “Is there any indication that her parents may remove her from the hospital?”

“I seriously doubt that. From what I’ve heard, the father rules that household with an iron hand,” she said with an emphatic nod of her head.

It was with a great sense of relief that I excused myself from Mrs. Filkins to assume my duties for the evening. Of course, my first order of business was to stop by Alice’s room and check on her. Her head was bent over blank pieces of paper, her dark hair obscuring her face as she scribbled with a crayon. I ventured inside her room as quietly as possible to sneak a peek at what she was doing. She must have sensed my presence because she almost immediately stopped what she was doing and met my eyes with a radiant smile.

“Morgan,” she cried. “You’re here! Look at my pictures!”

She was practically bouncing with enthusiasm as she gathered the various papers scattered around her on the bed. She extended them to me and I spent the next several minutes trying to interpret her crude drawings. One was obviously a family picture. She’d drawn a rough outline of a tall house in black crayon. It leaned precariously to one side as if it were about to fall over. Four stick figures stood to the side of it. They all shared common traits of big heads, big eyes, no necks and stick bodies. One had a curved shape drawn on it, which I took to be a dress: her mother. Another taller figure had a box on his head that resembled a hat: her father. A third figure was so tiny as to almost be unseen. Perhaps the baby sister? The one figure that drew my eye stood alone, far away from the rest of the family. She was almost as tall as her mother. Long black strokes of a crayon became her thick hair. Her dress was colored solid blue, her shoes black. A strange apparition was drawn on her head—a hat, apparently. Black dots were scattered all around the figure.

“Who is this?” I asked, pointing to the figure standing all alone. I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear her explanation.

“Me,” she said smiling. “Do you like my hat?”

I chuckled. “It’s very beautiful. What are these black dots?” I had absolutely no idea what they represented.

She dropped her eyes and was silent for a few moments. “Tears."

“I’m so sorry. You must miss your family so very much.”

She sniffled and wiped at her face. “I drew one of Puppy, too.”

I shuffled through the papers until I found it. A big reddish brown fuzzy blob of a shape took up most of the page. I discerned a tail at one end and dark brown eyes at the other.

I suggested that we hang her pictures around the room to liven it up. She agreed with enthusiasm. I set off in search of a few small tacks and a hammer. When I returned, I nailed the pictures around her bed at eye level. The last one caught my eye unexpectedly. I hesitated before nailing it up. It was of a stick figure, quite tall, with huge eyes. She’d colored the eyes half red, half brown. Standing next to the figure, and holding its hand was the little girl in the blue dress, black shoes and funny hat. A portrait of me and Alice.

“That’s me and you,” she said with a proud smile.

“Of course. I could tell by the eyes.” I chuckled and hung it by her bed, alongside the others. “I have to see to my other patients now. I’ll be back with your dinner in a couple of hours.”

She smiled up at me, and then asked for her paper dolls. I gave them to her and then stood at the doorway and watched her as she began to play. I couldn’t wait until my dinner break. Like a moth around a flame, I couldn’t stay away.

 

* * *

 

  
When I arrived with Alice’s food, Miss Belmore was already standing by her bed. They were engaged in deep conversation over a box lying in Alice’s lap.

“Morgan!” Alice cried. “Look what Mary Grace brought me!”

I strayed over to the bed and peered into the box. It was full of an assortment of dresses, shoes, and hats. The small porcelain doll that went with the clothes was now clutched in Alice’s hand.

“It’s a doll! And she has all these clothes and shoes and hats that go with her!”

Miss Belmore stole a glance in my direction and smiled. “They were mine when I was a child. I’d stashed them in a box underneath my bed and hadn’t looked at them in years. I knew she would love them.”

I mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ in response. She nodded and turned her attention back to Alice. “It’s time to eat. We’ll play some more later.”

“Where’s your dinner?” she asked with a frown in my direction.

“Um, I seem to have forgotten my food again,” I answered sheepishly.

“I have plenty,” Miss Belmore said. “I’ll share with you.”

I groaned inwardly at the prospect of choking down solid food, but accepted my fate with good humor when I saw Alice’s beaming smile. I’d do anything to make her happy and put that smile on her face. We ate in silence for a while. I managed to swallow the ham Miss Belmore gave me. I dreaded the time I’d have to spend in the water closet expelling the hideous mess.

We were casually discussing the state of affairs in the world, of which I had very little interest, when I noticed Alice had become very still. My voice trailed off into silence. Miss Belmore followed my gaze to Alice’s form. She was sitting perfectly still. Her fork lay still poised, but forgotten, between her fingers. She stared off into the distance, her green eyes unfocused. Miss Belmore turned to me in question, but I gave her a silent warning not to speak. Was Alice having a vision? I watched her, mesmerized by her stillness, intrigued by her sudden rapid eye movements. It was as if she was watching an event unfold and was following it with her eyes, but there was only emptiness in the room before her. Whatever she was seeing, it was invisible to everyone but her. Miss Belmore and I stared in astonished silence as the episode ran its course. Then, as if nothing had happened, Alice turned her green eyes on us and smiled widely.

“Mary Grace is getting married,” she said with a tinkle of laughter.

Miss Belmore’s mouth dropped open in shocked surprise.

“Did you just have a vision?” I asked curiously.

She nodded. “I saw Mary Grace in a wedding gown. She’s getting married to a man named Wills. And she was standing under this…thing. I don’t know the name of it. They were in a garden.”

I looked over at Miss Belmore. She had gained her composure, but was still obviously shaken. “Have you spoken to her about your private life?”

“No,” she whispered shakily. “Just about my parents and my grandmother. I never mentioned Wills.”

“His name is John William, isn’t it?” Alice asked her. “And you call him Wills.”

“Yes,” Miss Belmore answered. “Dear Lord. You saw us getting married?”

Alice nodded, but her smile was slowly turning into a confused frown. “Aren’t you happy that you’re getting married?”

“Well, I had no idea I was getting married. Wills and I have never spoken of marriage. We’re closely acquainted, but we’re not engaged.”

“You’re getting married,” Alice stated emphatically. “I saw it, and if I see it, it comes true.”

“You said that they were standing under something. What was it? Can you describe it?” I asked.

“I can draw it,” she said excitedly. I gave her a piece of blank paper and a crayon. She hurriedly drew a crude rendering of a double-arched arbor. Circles of color were scattered all over it.

“Oh my Dear Lord," Miss Belmore gasped. “It’s the arbor in Will’s parents’ garden.”

“It has pink roses all over it, too,” Alice added, smiling.

“Yes, pink roses,” Miss Belmore whispered. “His mother’s favorite.”

I looked at Alice’s determined face and back at Miss Belmore’s shocked one. “Congratulations seem to be in order, Miss Belmore.”

She gave a nervous laugh and accepted my congratulations. “Well, I don’t think we should get the cart before the horse. Wills hasn’t even asked me yet.”

“He will,” Alice said with a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

I watched as Alice and Miss Belmore talked quietly. I could hardly wait to see if her prediction about Miss Belmore’s upcoming nuptials would prove true.  _What an amazing little girl! What an intriguing gift she possesses! Such enormous potential in so small a child._ Now that I had actually witnessed her visions I felt an even stronger need to protect Alice. I had to help her gain some control over her power and shield her from those who would persecute her for her gift, as well as those who would want to exploit it. Unfortunately, her association with me had already put her directly in the path of those who would do anything to harness her power, as they had tried to do with me.

I made a vow that very moment that no one would control either one of us, no matter where we had to run, no matter what I had to do. I would protect her, even if I had to sacrifice my own life to keep her safe.


	11. Happiness and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The historical information regarding Teddy Roosevelt was taken from a book entitled “Welcome to Samantha’s World 1904: Growing Up in America’s New Century” from the American Girls Collection.

**~ MORGAN ~**

By the time two weeks had gone by, we had fallen into a comfortable routine. Many days Miss Belmore joined Alice and me for the evening meal. We used that time to get acquainted and informally chat about the comings and goings of the locals as well as to discuss events happening outside of Mississippi. By listening to our conversations, Alice was learning about the world outside the brick walls of the hospital. Until the books arrived that I had requested, these informal “lessons” would have to suffice.

During one such lesson, Miss Belmore regaled us both with her humorous stories about our current president, Teddy Roosevelt. It seemed Mr. Roosevelt had strict rules for the downstairs of the White House, but upstairs, it was perfectly acceptable for his son, Quentin, to bring his pet Shetland pony into his bedroom. Not only that, Miss Belmore said that she read in a magazine that President Roosevelt’s children walked on stilts, roller-skated, and sometimes used the sofas in the White House as trampolines. No one was surprised to see the children sliding down the grand staircase on large silver serving platters. Alice giggled hysterically at each of Miss Belmore’s revelations about our illustrious president and his unruly children, and commented that she would have never been allowed to do such things at her house.

When Miss Belmore couldn’t be with us, Alice and I would simply talk about anything that came to mind. During these conversations, it became apparent to me that she was very intelligent, with a quick mind. She had the ability to grasp new knowledge with ease. I looked forward to beginning our formal lessons. She was going to be such a delight to teach.

Even if she wasn’t able to join us for dinner, nearly every night Miss Belmore stopped by at bedtime and read to Alice from one of her storybooks. I would watch silently from the doorway, entranced by the picture of contentment these two presented. Miss Belmore made Alice happy, made her feel safe, and perhaps even served as a substitute mother, and she loved Alice deeply. That much was obvious from her actions and her words. But, so far, no progress had been made in getting her to change her schedule. Her personal commitments at home simply would not allow it.

Alice did not have any more visions during those two weeks. According to Mrs. Filkins, the doctor was growing impatient. How could he treat her illness if she never exhibited any observable symptoms? I was instructed to watch her closely when I was with her. If I even suspected that she was having a vision, I was to report it to a nurse immediately. Silently, I thought that the doctor should not hold his breath waiting for me to tell him anything. He would surely die first.

One evening, after finishing Alice’s bedtime story, Miss Belmore gave us some surprising news. “Alice, Mr. Grant, I’m afraid I won’t be able to come to work tomorrow evening. I have some personal things that I have to attend to,” she explained with an enigmatic smile.

“What things?” Alice asked innocently.

I jumped in right at that moment and stopped the inquisition before it got started. “It’s impolite to pry. If Miss Belmore wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” she said with a sly smile. “Alice is merely a curious little girl.” Then she looked in Alice’s direction as she spoke. “Yes, I’m afraid I’m going to be much too busy all day tomorrow and into the evening to even think about work.” Then she sighed dramatically and placed her hand lightly over her heart. “Picking out a wedding dress and a trousseau is sure to take all day. I know I shall be thoroughly exhausted by evening.”

Alice was silent for a second or two until Miss Belmore’s news sunk in. Then she squealed loudly and jumped off the bed and into her arms. They both laughed and hugged each other excitedly. Miss Belmore finally pried her arms off from around her neck and deposited Alice back onto the bed.

“I told you! I told you! Didn’t I?” she squealed. “You’re getting married!”

“Yes! You were right!” Miss Belmore agreed, laughing. “He asked me last week on the spur of the moment. But, actually, he said he’d been considering it for quite awhile. He just hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask me. So, do you think you can do without me for one night?”

“Congratulations,” I offered quietly. I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips briefly. “Your Wills is a very lucky man. And of course we can do without you for one evening.”

Mrs. Filkins interrupted our happy moment with her nightly preparations for Alice’s bedtime. Miss Belmore and I said our goodnights to Alice and quietly left the room. Before she left to return to her duties, Miss Belmore laid her hand lightly on my arm. “Alice is such an extraordinary child.”

“That she is,” I agreed. “A most extraordinary child.”

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

I woke up happy the next morning. Morgan wasn’t here, but that was all right because Mary Grace was getting married! And no one was mad at me for having a vision about it and being right! I hoped I could go to her wedding. Maybe I could even be in her wedding. I couldn’t wait for Morgan to get here so I could ask him about it.

This morning was like all my other mornings. I ate breakfast in the big room, then sat on my bed and colored with my crayons or looked at magazines for a long time. The doctor came to see me. He asked me the same questions. I didn’t know whether I should tell him about my vision, so I didn’t say anything. I would ask Morgan about that tonight.

I ate lunch. It was terrible. But, Morgan would eat with me tonight, so I didn’t care that it was awful. I ate it all. After lunch, I sat on my bed and played with my doll until a nurse came and got me. I didn’t want to go with her. She wasn’t mean, but she wasn’t nice either. She wouldn’t tell me where she was taking me.

We went down a lot of halls that I’d never been down. She took me into a room with a wooden chair sitting in the middle of it. A stack of books sat in the chair. The nurse lifted me up and sat me on top of the books. I asked what was going to happen, but she still wouldn’t tell me. Another nurse came into the room. She went over to a table in the corner and picked up something. When I saw what was in her hand I started screaming.

The nurses tried to make me stop, but I wouldn’t. I screamed and cried. I kicked at their hands as hard as I could. I tried to scratch their arms and fingers. Then there were a lot of nurses, and they were holding my arms and legs down so that I couldn’t move. Someone was holding my head now, too.

When the nurse came toward me, all I could do was cry.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

When I arrived for work that evening, I immediately knew something was wrong. Mrs. Filkins had spotted me arriving, and instead of stopping me in the hall to harangue me with her criticisms or to share her latest gossip, she had scurried off like a frightened rabbit. I frowned and hurried down the halls toward Alice’s room. I heard her ragged whimpers long before I reached her doorway. Something was horribly wrong.

When I reached her room, I stopped before entering. All I could see was a sheet-covered mound up in one corner of her bed. No part of her body was visible, but I knew she was under it, because the mound trembled and jerked in time with her soft whimpers. What the hell happened today? I cautiously stepped into the room and to her bedside.

“Alice?” I said softly. I waited for a response, but I got none. “Alice? Please answer me.” No answer. I laid my hand gently on what I thought might be her shoulder, and tried again. “Alice, please talk to me,” I pleaded. No answer.

I had no idea what lay underneath that sheet and I cringed inside as I tugged at the edges of it. After a few minutes of pulling, I finally found an opening. She lay inert except for her snubbing as I slowly removed the sheet from around her body. I noticed two things almost immediately. One shocked me and the other inflamed a rage in me that I had not experienced in a very long time. Her hands and feet had been tied together and then tied to the rails of the bed. How long had she lain like this? I spoke softly to her as I started loosening the straps from around the rails, and then from around her wrists and ankles. Her face was streaked with dried tears, her eyes swollen from crying, her face puffy and red. Rage burned hotly through my mind like an uncontrolled wildfire. But it was her hair that shocked me into silence. That beautiful long and shiny hair was gone. In its place was a short, gapped mess that looked like a child had cut it with a dull knife. As I worked at untying the last of the straps, my heart ached for her and what she’d been through.

As soon as the last strap fell away from her body, she launched herself up and into my arms without warning. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. Her legs were similarly wrapped around my waist. She buried her face in my chest and sobbed and cried and wailed my name over and over and over. Tears streamed out of her eyes and soaked my shirt.

The blood lust suddenly roared to life at the unexpectedness closeness of her fragrant body. I stopped breathing and fought it with every ounce of strength I had. I felt a deep stirring that terrified me even more than the thirst. I gritted my teeth and clamped down on that awakening evil with the full force of my mind. Through sheer will, the desires threatening to strip away my control gradually receded. And through it all I held her small, soft body against mine. I caressed her hair and whispered meaningless words into her ear to calm her. I gently stroked her back and waited for the crying to pass. Finally, she quieted. She pulled back to look at me. I wiped her face dry of tears with my fingers, gently pulling her body away from mine, and placing her back onto her bed.

“I’m ugly,” she said in a small voice.

“Alice, no,” I crooned softly. “You could never be ugly.”

“My hair, its all gone,” she said, snubbing. “Why did they cut it off?"

The only explanation I could think of was lice. “Lice. Little bugs that lay eggs in your hair. They had to.”

“Bugs?” she asked astonished, as she reached up and tentatively put her fingers in her hair.

“We’ll get them all out. We have something we can wash your hair in that will kill them. It will be all right, I promise.”

“Mommy would cry if she could see me,” she said sadly. “She used to brush my hair every night one hundred strokes, and sometimes she would braid it and tell me stories while she did.”

“Oh no. I don’t think you mother would cry. In fact, I think she would be impressed at how stylish you are,” I said, smiling. She frowned at me. “Trust me Alice, women are going to be wearing short hair like yours everywhere soon. I’ve already seen some of the high society women in Biloxi with this same hairstyle.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically.

“I promise,” I said, laying my hand over my heart. “And I’m not just telling you a sweet story, either. It’s true.”

I watched a range of emotions sweep across her face as she considered my words. Then she fixed her green eyes on mine. “What’s a tramp?” she asked suddenly. I was shocked at her question and her use of such a vulgar word.

“Where did you hear that word?” I asked sharply.

“I heard one of the nurses say I looked pretty with short hair, but Mrs. Filkins said only tramps cut off their hair.”

I was livid to the point of racing through the hospital to find the bitch and rip out her throat. I balled up my fists and fought the urge. Someday that woman was going to get what was coming to her. I only hoped I was the one to give it to her.

“It’s a very ugly word. Mrs. Filkins has no manners to even speak such a word, let alone utter it in polite company. It’s not something a young lady should say,” I answered hotly. “And you most certainly are not that word.” On an impulse, I reached out with my thumb and traced a line down her cheek. “Always remember, Alice. You’re a young lady, poised and regal and straight,” I reminded her softly.

She smiled up at me and my anger left as quickly as it had come. “Do you think Mary Grace will like my new hair?” she asked hesitantly.

“I’m sure of it.”

I talked with her a while longer until I felt she would be all right alone. I left to start my duties for the night and counted the minutes until my dinner break. I kept an eye open for Mrs. Filkins but she was making herself scarce tonight. Smart woman.

Alice seemed to have recovered by dinner. We had a very lively conversation that centered on weddings, bridesmaids, flower girls and other such topics that I knew absolutely nothing about. Alice seemed quite knowledgeable for such a young girl. I suppose when you’re raised from birth to expect marriage and children, such morsels of information become ingrained.

I read her a bedtime story from one of her books. She’d heard it many times before, but it was her favorite. In fact, I had to read it to her twice and probably would have started on it a third time if Mrs. Filkins hadn’t interrupted us.

“Mrs. Filkins, a word with you please,” I said quietly as she entered the room. We left Alice’s room together and moved several feet down the hall. She carefully avoided my gaze as she spoke.

“I’m not responsible for what happened,” she started off defensively. “It was the day shift nurses’ decision to cut her hair. She had lice. There was nothing else to do.”

All my earlier rage began to simmer and burn as I moved closer to her. She backed up a step automatically, but I followed her. “I don’t care about her hair,” I murmured quietly. “It was your use of the word 'tramp' in regards to Alice that I care about.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered. “I said no such thing!”

“Mrs. Filkins,” I said with a clenched jaw. “If you ever say such a thing around Alice again, you will regret it.”

I caught her gaze and my fury must have shown in my eyes. Her Adam’s apple bobbed as she gulped down her fear.

“My apologies. An unfortunate choice of words.” She swept by me and back into Alice’s room with all haste. My gaze followed her receding form. If there was ever an instance where I might consider killing an innocent human, this was it.

I said my goodnights to Alice. When I left work, she was sleeping soundly. I missed the soft blanket of black hair that was usually spread around her, but it was only hair. It would grow back. But the hurt she’d suffered today? That would take much longer to heal.

 

* * *

 

It was with relief that I withdrew into my house and closed myself away from the day. There would be no reading today. I had much to consider. Mrs. Filkins was proving to be a thorn in Alice’s side. I had to find a way to get rid of her. Even though ripping her throat out would be an immense pleasure, I needed to find a less violent way to accomplish it. Unfortunately, no solution was to be found this day, despite nearly an hour of contemplation.

But, more importantly, I needed to focus on what had happened in Alice’s room. The blood lust had been extremely quick and forceful, and had struck without warning. What was even more worrisome was the power of my other appetites. They were strengthening and rising to the surface, and getting more and more difficult to control. I sighed aloud. I knew what was wrong. The evil in me had no difficulty taking over my mind when my body was weakened by thirst. I needed to hunt.

It had been nearly two months, I realized, since I’d fed. A month and a half was the longest I could safely go, but because of the distraction of Alice, I was two weeks past that point. I was the weakest I had been in a very long time. I couldn’t afford to be weak now. I had to stay in control of my mind and my body. Anything else could mean Alice’s death at my hand. So, somewhere in Biloxi, or the surrounding area, someone was eating their last meals, drinking their last glasses of wine or enjoying their last pleasures of the flesh. Because someone, somewhere was going to meet their death very soon. Someone was going to meet Morgan Grant.


	12. Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to clarify a point before we start. The use of the word “fuck” in this chapter is historically accurate. The word has a long history dating back to the Middle Ages and was used extensively during the American Civil War. So, it is perfectly correct for me to use it in this one instance in 1906.

**~ MORGAN ~**

After the blood lust incident with Alice, a hunting trip was imperative, and soon. As per the terms of my employment, I received part of the evening off every month and a half on the pretense of visiting my doctor. In exchange, I would work through my dinner break or on an occasional Sunday evening. Of course, now that Alice was in my life, I was at the hospital _every_ evening, including Sundays, whether I was working or not.

I explained to Alice the next evening my need to see a doctor on a regular basis for my “condition”, and that I would be at work tomorrow in time to take the evening meal with her. Thankfully, no further details were required. Alice’s only worry was that I may be dying. After many assurances that I was going to live on for a very long time, she finally dropped the subject and moved on to something else. I sighed inwardly in relief that no long, drawn out explanation had been necessary. I wasn’t prepared to try and explain my lifestyle to a six-year-old. How could vampirism possibly be put into words that a child could understand? More to the point, should I even reveal to her what I was? Those were questions that weighed heavily on me every day.

I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind to ponder another day. There was something more pressing to think about tonight: hunting.

As I rummaged through my closet for appropriate clothing, my thoughts turned to the task at hand. I had gotten to the point in my existence where I thoroughly disliked hunting. I’d trained my body, through many, many years of trial and error, to go without human blood for six weeks at a time. I had tried to wait two months, but had found that I grew too weak from thirst, and as such, made myself a walking target for those who would kill me. Seven weeks had not been any better. It turned out that six weeks seemed to be the perfect length of time, at least for _me._ Whether it would do for any other vampire, I had no idea, since I avoided all contact with those of my kind.

I pulled out my clothing selections for the evening and began changing. When I was finished, I cut the perfect figure of a wealthy gentleman out for an evening on the town: straight brown trousers, white linen long-sleeved undershirt, with a matching, long brown necktie, and over it all, a knee-length brown overcoat with two side pockets. Using a small hand mirror, I slicked back my hair, fought a useless battle with the unruly part that always wanted to hang across my forehead, and then topped my head with a stylish brown hat. I grabbed a walking cane and headed out the door.

I usually took the necessary precaution of hunting far afield of Biloxi. Tonight, I did not have the luxury of traveling to Jackson or Madison or any of the other larger cities I often used. Alice would be waiting for me. I mustn’t tarry any longer than necessary.

I pulled off my hat, tucked it under one arm, and ran at vampire speed toward the coast and westward to Mississippi City, hugging the shadows to avoid any possible human detection. As I moved closer and closer to my destination, the façade of civility gradually dropped from my mind and body. Such measures were necessary for me to be able to take a human life, even one not deserving to live. By the time I reached the docks of Mississippi City, there was nothing left of the Morgan Grant that Alice or Miss Belmore would have recognized. By necessity, I had to partially allow the demon in me to temporarily take over, but not completely. For to completely give in to his power would be my downfall.

I found the less desirable area of town and proceeded to wander aimlessly down streets. To the casual observer, I would appear to be a respectable gentleman who was too much in his cups. I occasionally staggered to lend credence to my feigned state of drunkenness. It didn’t take long for an unsavory character to decide that I would make an easy target. A woman emerged out of the shadows and sauntered over in my direction. A prostitute. The demon danced inside my head with glee.

“Well, hello handsome,” she cooed suggestively as she draped an arm over my shoulder. Her breath smelled of rum and her clothes reeked with cheap perfume.

“I seem to be on the wrong street,” I murmured drunkenly.

“Hmmm, I think you’re right.” She chuckled. “But since you’re here, why don’t we have some fun? Huh?” She snaked an arm underneath my overcoat, and ran a soft finger down the side of my cheek.

I let her slowly push me back into the dark shadows of a doorway. I allowed her to kiss me, even though the taste and smell of the rum sickened me. As her lips moved from my mouth down the side of my neck, I searched the shadows along the street. I had sensed someone hiding themselves in the darkness. A small movement across the street caught my eye: a man, and his eyes were fixed in our direction. Perhaps they were working together?

Her hands were moving sensuously over my body as her mouth moved feverishly over my cool skin. I knew without a doubt what she wanted, and it wasn’t sex. Her fingers were grazing lightly over my pockets, obviously searching for money. So, I was going to be robbed and then possibly beaten or perhaps even killed. I moaned softly to fool her into thinking I wasn’t paying attention, but every nerve ending in my body was tingling in anticipation. When she made her move, I would be ready. As her mouth found mine again, I sensed her hand moving surreptitiously down her skirt. When she suddenly pulled the dagger out of a hidden pocket, I closed my hand tightly around her wrist.

Her dark eyes met mine in panic. I quickly turned her body so that her back was now against the door. I pressed my body up against hers and completely shielded her from the man’s view across the street. I felt a tremor run up her arm as she prepared to struggle with me. There would be no struggle. As I held her frightened, but angry, gaze, I squeezed my fingers and snapped the bones of her wrist in two. The knife fell out of her hand and to the ground with a dull thud. I quickly clapped my hand over her mouth to stop her cries of pain from being heard. Her eyes burned with rage and terror combined. Her hot breaths were ragged and quick. The fingers of her good arm were clawing at the sleeve of my coat. The demon was writhing in anticipation.

“I’m going to take my hand away and you’re not going to scream,” I murmured in a low, quiet voice. “If you do, I’ll break something else.” I ran my fingers lightly up her arm until they reached and encircled her forearm between her broken wrist and her elbow. “Do you understand?” She nodded, and I pulled my hand slowly away from her face.

“Fuck you!” she spat as soon as her mouth was free.

I grabbed her jaw tightly between my fingers and slammed her head back against the door. My face was only a hair’s breadth from hers. Her panicked breaths blew warmly over my skin. “That sounds rather inviting,” I murmured softly against her trembling mouth. “You’ve got me to thinking now. Perhaps I should take some extra time to indulge myself.” I stroked her trembling lips lightly with my finger.

“I have a room just up the street,” she said, her voice quivering. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Ahhh...“ I moaned softly against her cheek. “You really shouldn’t tempt me. I don’t think you’d like the things I’d want to do to you.”

A harsh laugh erupted from her clenched jaw. “I’ve done it all, mister. You think you got something new?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I whispered against her mouth. “You see, the women I have sex with always die when I’m finished with them.” I kissed her trembling lips gently. Her soft whimpers of fear only added fuel to the fire simmering inside of me. I chuckled softly. “Lucky for you, I don’t have time for such pleasantries. I have a sweet young lady awaiting my arrival elsewhere. She’ll grow anxious if I’m late.”

“Please don’t kill me,” she whimpered.

”Aah, but you were going to kill _me,_ ” I reasoned quietly. “You were going to plunge that knife into me and then rob me, weren’t you?” She didn’t answer. “ _Weren’t you?_ ” I hissed angrily between gritted teeth. She nodded quickly in panic. “If you’d just wanted sex, I would have let you go, but you were going to kill me because you thought I was weak and defenseless. How many innocent people have you robbed and killed in your short, miserable life? Hmm?” She struggled against me. It was a pathetic exercise in futility. She wasn’t going anywhere.

I lightly stroked her neck with my fingertips. The silky feel of her warm skin was very arousing. I very much regretted my lack of time. “You have such a lovely neck,” I whispered. I continued to caress it as I gave her one last kiss. I gave myself over to the demon and he clouded my mind with images that caused my body to stir and my breath to quicken in anticipation.

I wrapped my fingers around her throat and squeezed. I pulled away from her mouth, and watched the life gradually leave her eyes. I moaned with pleasure as my fingers dug into her skin and crushed her windpipe. Her body jerked against mine, her feet kicking uselessly at my legs, as she fought her death. Her efforts were to no avail. Her body finally stopped its fight. I laid my lips against her warm neck and waited patiently for her heart to stop. When her heart had beaten its last, I tore into her neck and drank until I could drink no more. Hot blood poured down my throat, filling my body with an unimaginable rush of power. When I finally pulled away, I let her lifeless body crumple to the ground. I licked the last drops of blood from my mouth and stepped over her and out of the shadows into the night light where I could be seen.

Her blood was racing through my system now, filling me with much needed strength. The man emerged out of the shadows and walked slowly toward me. I waited patiently for him. As soon as he was close, his eyes darted to the ground and over the lifeless body of the woman. They grew wide with alarm as the reality of what he was seeing registered in his brain. In an instant, a rather large and wickedly sharp knife appeared in his hand. He crouched and bared his teeth; hatred burned in his eyes. Before he could lunge at me, my fist connected with his face and he crumpled, unconscious, to the ground. I was no longer thirsty, so killing him would be a senseless act of violence, since he’d only attempted to hurt me because of the woman. Besides, I felt sure that I’d meet him again one day. Men of his kind eventually met their destiny, sooner rather than later.

I wiped my hands on the long overcoat I was wearing, and then let it fall to the ground. The air stank of death. I glanced over at the dead woman lying in the shadows and felt nothing. No guilt. No sympathy. Nothing. She was a predator and I was a predator. We were destined to walk the same dark path in this life. The only difference between us was her life had suddenly gotten shorter and mine would continue to be interminably long.

* * *

 

I spent the time running back to Biloxi pushing the demon back into his dark compartment, and restoring the vestiges of a cultured, twentieth century gentleman. By the time I reached the outskirts of the city, I was walking in a casual fashion. For all intents and purposes, I was a young and handsome sophisticated man out for an evening stroll. No one would have suspected or, if told, would not have believed, what I had just done. After centuries of practice, I had the routine honed to perfection.

I arrived back at my house to find a parcel leaned up against my front door with a small note attached—some of the items for Alice. I carried the box into the house and sat it on the table until I had changed clothes for work. When I was ready, I ripped the brown paper off of the box and immediately regretted all the past times I had wished to kill Miss Tindell. She had, after all, gone out of her way to deliver this package, and on an evening that we usually did not meet. I smiled and tucked the box under my arm and headed to the hospital.

 

* * *

  
“It’s about time!” Mrs. Filkins huffed. She stopped me as I made my way down the hall toward Alice’s room. “She’s giving everyone fits, asking every five minutes where you are and when you’re going to be back. Like we don’t have more important things to do than cater to her every little whim. For the life of me I don’t know what she sees in you or what you see in _her_ for that matter. Disagreeable, the both of you!” Then she stalked off without even giving me a chance to respond to her insult.

I chuckled softly. Alice must be behaving very badly this evening to have Mrs. Filkins in such a lather. When I arrived in her room, two green eyes glared angrily at me. Her face was puckered into a disagreeable frown.

“Good evening,” I said, completely ignoring her dissatisfaction. I had, after all, told her that I would be late tonight. “Have you been behaving badly?” I asked with a small smile.

“Nobody would tell me where you were or when you were coming back,” she pouted. “I got mad.”

“I told you that I had a doctor’s appointment and would be late tonight, remember?” I watched in amusement as the memory slowly came back to her.

“Oh, I forgot,” she replied sheepishly.

“I have a surprise for you,” I announced. “Well, a couple of surprises, actually.”

She squealed with delight and clapped her hands, bouncing on her bed like a jack-in-the-box. I sat the box on her bed and thoroughly enjoyed watching her tear into it with an enthusiasm only a child could possess.

“Paper dolls!” she squealed.

I had specifically asked for a set of the British Monarchy. I thought perhaps they would serve as a starting point for a history or government lesson. The other set I had not asked for. Evidently Miss Tindell had taken it upon herself to order the ones with French designer clothing. Alice was overjoyed when she saw them. Miss Tindell had inadvertently wormed her way back into my good graces. I supposed I would have to attempt courteous conversation at our next meeting.

The other surprise was wrapped in tissue. Alice laid aside the paper dolls and began tearing away the paper. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes got as round as dinner plates when she exposed the present. 

“A Teddy bear,” she gasped in awe. “I saw one in one of those magazines!” Then she hugged it to her chest and squeezed it as tightly as she could. That innocuous brown furry toy brought a huge smile to her face and complete happiness to her eyes. “Wait until Mary Grace sees all this!” she exclaimed. “Will you play with me? Just for a little while?”

There was absolutely no way I could refuse such a heartfelt request. My patients would just have to wait a few minutes longer for my attention.  I helped her pull the dolls off of the paper. Her delicate fingers tugged gently at their edges, careful to avoid tearing the fragile paper. Occasionally, our fingers would touch as we silently worked, hers so soft, so small, so harmless. Mine so firm, so large, and ever so deadly. Once again, I wondered what she would think of me when she knew what my fingers were capable of.

Taking her with me and letting her remain human for any great length of time was out of the question. The Volturi would never allow it. So, the question was, should I tell her what I am, eventually? Or should I keep my true nature a secret until the last possible moment? If I told her beforehand what I was, would she run from me in fear? Or would she accept me as I am or perhaps even want to join me in this life? But what worried me the most was, if I turned her without telling her what she was going to become, would she forgive me afterward? Or would she loathe the sight of me for the rest of our eternity together?

Thankfully, her destiny was far into the future. Such decisions need not be made now, just considered, and considered very carefully.

She paused in her playing and smiled brilliantly up at me. I smiled back, content for the moment to be her substitute parent and a friend. Would she ever look upon me as something more? I had to admit to myself that what I wanted more than anything else in this godforsaken world was Alice’s love and acceptance.

_Patience is something I have in abundance, Alice. I am more than willing to wait._


	13. Isolation

**~ MORGAN ~**

July and August passed quickly for all of us. Alice’s education had begun in earnest as soon as I had received the necessary texts in late June. We'd started with the alphabet and the sounds that each letter made, and then had moved on to penmanship. Each dinner hour was begun with a recitation of the alphabet and its sounds, and then we'd alternated days with reading and writing instruction. By mid July Alice was reading simple words and by August was well on her way to reading short sentences, and she could print her entire name.

Mrs. Filkins vehemently disapproved of Alice receiving any formal education beyond the basics. One evening she interrupted our discussion of the various planets in our solar system. “Education is for young men, Mr. Grant. A lady needs only to learn enough to manage her husband’s household, or to perhaps be a nurse or teacher.”

I swallowed an overwhelming urge to argue with her and continued on with our discussion. As she made to leave, her comments not having had the effect she’d desired, she gave me yet another reason to wish her dead. 

“You’re wasting your time, you know.” She chuckled with a haughty smile. “She’s never going to see the outside of these walls.”

Anger instantly rose up inside me. My heated glare sent her scurrying through the door in all haste. I glanced back at Alice. Her eyes were shiny with tears. I quickly drew her back into our astronomy discussion before she could dwell on Mrs. Filkin's spiteful words.

The wedding was set for the afternoon of Saturday, September 22. By the latter part of July, Miss Belmore was deep into the planning of her upcoming nuptials. By the beginning of August, I good-naturedly gave up thirty minutes of my time with Alice each day so they could discuss the wedding in detail. I listened from a comfortable distance as they talked about place settings, invitations, trousseaus and other topics whose importance eluded me. I watched them gush endlessly over small swatches of fabric. Alice’s tiny fingers caressed the cloth lovingly as she oohed and aahed over its softness or its pattern or its color. They spent a ridiculous amount of time one evening pouring over pictures of table linens and napkins. I thought such things frivolous, but the happiness it brought Alice was undeniable.

Alice and I were both issued invitations to the wedding. I politely declined, explaining to Miss Belmore that my medical condition made me painfully sensitive to sunlight, and of course, Alice’s invitation was given with the full knowledge that she’d never be able to attend. We both spent one evening explaining to her why she couldn’t go, and even though she understood the reasons, that didn't stop her eyes from welling up with tears at the knowledge that she would not be there to share Mary Grace’s happy day.

The only dark part of those two months centered around a short interchange between Mrs. Filkins and I. She cornered me one evening, as was her habit, as I arrived for work.

“I heard something today that might be of interest to you,” she said. It could only be about Alice, and it would most certainly be something unpleasant. Only bad news could bring such a gleam to her eyes where Alice was concerned. “The doctor is considering releasing Alice back to her parents,” she informed me. “She hasn’t had any visions since she got here, and he’s beginning to wonder if the parents were mistaken, or perhaps they lied about her condition to get rid of her for some reason.”

This was distressing news indeed. Mrs. Filkins seemed pleased at my loss for words and with a smug, self-satisfied smile she turned on her heel and left without further comment. From that day forward, her words echoed inside my head, and I started to plan what I would do if that occurred. I couldn’t leave with her until after the wedding; that would break Alice’s heart. I could tell the doctor that she’d already had a vision, but something deep inside me warned me to hold my tongue. Even though that would guarantee her staying, I shuddered at the thought of the treatments that would follow such an announcement.

So, I stayed quiet and waited and planned.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

Mary Grace is getting married next Saturday! I couldn’t wait! She said she would take pictures with her new camera, and I couldn’t wait to see them!

I lay back on my pillow and stared at the picture she’d given me of her dress. It was white with a really big train. The top of it had a high neckline and Mary Grace had said it was made of embroidered silk. It had puffy sleeves at the shoulders and the rest of the sleeves were tight-fitting lace. _I love those puffy sleeves. I wish I had a dress with puffy sleeves._ Her veil was long and lacy and would be pinned to her hair with pearl combs, and she was even going to wear a corset. Mary Grace had frowned when she told me that, but I had clapped my hands together and squealed. _I wish I was old enough to wear a corset._

But more than anything, I wished I could go. I understood what Morgan had said when he'd tried to explain: I was in a hospital because they thought I was sick, so they’d never let me go out away from the doctor.  _I hate that doctor._ I wanted to get away from him. He was nice, but he wasn’t my friend like Morgan and Mary Grace were. I wasn’t ever going to tell him anything no matter how many times he asked.

I didn’t feel like coloring or playing with my paper dolls, so I lay on my bed all day and stared at the dress. I pretended it was me who was getting married. I imagined myself outside in Mommy’s rose garden, waiting with my flowers for my gentleman to arrive. I couldn’t think of anyone to be my husband except for Morgan. All the boys that had lived near my house had been mean to me, so it had to be Morgan. He was the only gentleman I knew besides Daddy, of course. Morgan stood beside me, smiled at me and told me he loved me. Then we had lots of babies and lived happily ever after. Just like in one of the books Mary Grace read to me sometimes before bed.

And then, without any warning, things changed. The pictures in my head changed. I watched and wished I didn’t have to. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The pictures wouldn’t go away. They never did.  _NO! I don’t want to see this! This can’t happen! It can’t!_

I started screaming and I didn’t stop. Even when I felt peoples’ hands on me or they tried to talk to me and calm me down, I didn’t stop. Even as they carried me out of my room and down the hall, I still didn’t stop. I screamed and cried and kicked and scratched and wailed the entire way, until there was finally nothing but darkness all around me.

And still I screamed…

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

When I arrived at work, I immediately sensed something was wrong. Mrs. Filkins was nowhere to be found and there was an unusual amount of noise in the ward. The normal crying and moaning of some of the more delusional patients had increased from what was customary. Nurses I passed in the hall were preoccupied and never glanced my way.

It was with a growing sense of dread that I approached Alice’s room. I already knew, of course, that she wasn’t there. I always heard the tiny thrumming of her heart long before she actually greeted me with her childish grin and sparkling green eyes. But I looked into her room anyway, and what I saw concerned me. The bed frame was pulled awkwardly away from the corner of the room at an angle. The sheets and blankets on her bed were torn away at the corners and hanging haphazardly near the floor. A lone piece of paper lay forgotten just underneath one corner of the bed. I squatted down and picked it up. It was a picture of Miss Belmore’s wedding gown.

Just then, Mrs. Filkins entered the room and started putting things back in order. “She isn’t here,” she said, stating the obvious.

“What’s happened?”

My stomach formed into a hard knot as I imagined her parents having come to reclaim her without my knowledge. I cursed myself for waiting too long to act.

“She’s in isolation,” she said matter-of-factly as she continued making the bed.

"Isolation! Why?”

“She had a vision this afternoon. Unfortunately, it was after the doctor had already left for the day,” she explained. Then she turned to face me with her hands planted firmly and defiantly on her hips.

“You can’t put a small child in isolation!” I yelled. Anger was blossoming into full blown rage as I thought about her all alone in that small, dark room.

“Don’t you tell me what I can or cannot do!” she yelled back between clenched teeth. “I followed the treatment plan for Alice to the letter. She was delusional, hysterical and causing harm to herself and others. She had to be isolated. She was upsetting the other patients. Listen to them, They’re _still_ upset over it.”

I turned without bothering to respond and fled the room. I ran down the halls, ignoring the astonished stares of patients and nurses. I resented having to run at normal human speed, when in a matter of seconds I could have already reached the remote area of the hospital where the isolation rooms were located. I heard her screams before I got there. The sound was like a knife twisting in my heart.

I turned a corner and stopped. I walked cautiously toward the room and stood in front of the door, listening to the agony, the fear, the panic in that sound. I fought against my impulses as they threatened to overwhelm me. With no effort at all, I could easily rip the door from its hinges and pull her into the safety of my arms, but deep down, the part of my brain that was still reasoning knew I could never do that. I had no authority. It would surely mean my job if I defied the doctor’s orders. Mrs. Filkins would gleefully see to that. And the thought of never seeing Alice again was unbearable.  _I should just do it anyway. To hell with the doctor. I’ll take her and we’ll both leave this god-forsaken hell hole._ But even as the thoughts were formed, I knew that was not an option either. The Volturi would never allow it. They’d find out and they’d take her from me. The only option I had was to calm her down and help her get through this.

“Alice!” I shouted over her screams. I could hear her little fists pounding against the door in a frantic, unceasing rhythm. “Alice! It’s Morgan!”  After several more attempts, I finally got through to her. She was still crying, but she was no longer screaming hysterically and pounding on the door.

“Morgan?” she sobbed.

“Yes. I’m here. Just on the other side of the door,” I assured her in a soothing voice.

“Get me out! It’s dark in here! I’m scared of the dark!”

“Can you do something for me?” I asked quietly through the door. There was nothing but snubbing and ragged crying for quite awhile. “Alice?”

“What do you want me to do?” She was snubbing deeply after every word, making it almost impossible to understand what she was saying.

“I want you to sit down right next to the door so we can talk and hear each other.” I slid down onto my knees so that my voice would be on the same level as hers. “I’m sitting down on the floor just outside the door. You do the same,” I instructed softly.

I heard a rustle of cloth and skin as she did what I asked. Her heart sounded like it was close to bursting it was beating so violently.

“I’ve been in this room before. I had to paint the walls once. It’s totally empty. Just four walls, a floor and a ceiling. I promise you, there’s nothing in there to harm you. You know I wouldn’t lie to you about something as important as this.”

“It’s _not_ empty," she snubbed. “There’s something in the corner. I bumped into it with my foot.”

“That’s just the chamber pot.”

She started crying again softly. “How long do I have to stay in here?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll try to find out for you, if you’ll promise me not to scream or pound on the door anymore while I’m gone. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I think.”

“I promise, there’s nothing in there to hurt you, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“All right.” She was trying to be brave for me, but I heard the tremble in her voice.

“That’s good,” I said soothingly. “Now, I’m going to go speak to the nurse and find out when you can get back to your room. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. I promise.”

And with that, I sought out the one responsible for putting her there: Mrs. Filkins. I passed her out in the hall and stopped her with a gentle touch to her arm. She flinched away from me, but quickly regained her composure. “May I ask how long Alice must remain in isolation?” With great effort, I kept my voice soothing, respectful and polite.

“Until I say so,” she huffed. “And not a minute sooner.”

I saw the defiance in her eyes, the arrogance. This wasn’t about Alice’s treatment at all. She suspected the depth of my feelings for Alice, and that knowledge gave her power over me. She was wielding that power now with great satisfaction.

“She’s terrified,” I said imploringly. “She’s like all children, she’s afraid of the dark. Think how your grandchildren would feel in the same situation.” I thought perhaps playing on her sympathies might help. I should have known better.

She pulled her body up straight. “ _My_ grandchildren would never be in such a situation, Mr. Grant,” she replied haughtily. “They’re quite sane. They don’t have visions and they’re certainly not the earthly mouthpiece of the devil.”

One day I was going to kill this bitch, but not today.

“Orders are she is not to be released for at least four hours,” she stated emphatically. “If at the end of four hours she is still delusional and hysterical or a danger to herself and others, then she is to stay until _I_ feel it is safe to let her out.”

“And if she is calm after four hours?”

“I will make that determination,” she replied as she met my eyes. “Four hours from now.”

Reasoning with ignorance was a useless activity. I had already wasted too much time, time that would have been better spent with Alice. I returned to the isolation room and took my place in the floor outside the door. “Alice?”

“How long?” The snubbing had calmed, but her voice was still shaky. I could tell that just one wrong word or one misplaced thought would send her back into hysterics. She was that fragile.

“Well, if you stay calm like you are now, you’ll be back in your room at bedtime." And the only way to keep her calm was to distract her. “So tell me, what did you do today?”

“Is Mary Grace here?”

“No, she’s taking care of some last minute details for the wedding.”

“I thought about the wedding,” she answered softly. “I looked at the picture of her dress all day and pretended I was getting married.”

I smiled at the thought of her childish imagination running away with her. I chuckled. “You’re a little young to be getting married, aren’t you?” 

She giggled softly and sniffed. “I had a pretty dress like Mary Grace’s and I was getting married in Mommy’s rose garden.”

“And who was the lucky young man?” I asked curiously.

She giggled. “You."

I suddenly found myself grinning. It was a childish fantasy, but a most decidedly pleasant one—albeit thirteen or fourteen years from now. I laughed as an image formed in my mind. “I’m much too tall for you. I would have to carry a ladder around with me all the time so you could climb up on it to kiss me.”

A chorus of giggles erupted through the thick wooden door. The sound gave me hope that she was going to make it through this in one piece.

“And we had lots of babies and lived happily ever after,” she added, still sniffing and giggling.

“Did we now?” I said, smiling. “And exactly how many is 'lots'?”

There was a split second of silence and then, “Eighty-seven.”

“Eighty-seven!” I exclaimed, laughing at the impossibility of childhood dreams. “Don’t you think that’s a bit too many? Whenever will you have time for _me?”_

She giggled, but didn’t answer. We both fell silent for awhile, but was a comfortable silence. Alice was calmer; her heartbeat had slowed for the moment.

“I had a vision today, too,” she whispered softly enough that normal ears would not have heard. Her heart had begun beating rapidly again. This was not something I wanted to discuss when I couldn’t see or touch her.

“Let’s talk about your vision when we’re back in your room."

“I need to tell you now!” she insisted, her voice rising. I heard the beginnings of panic in it.

“I promise you, in just a little while you can tell me all about it.”

She started crying again. “It’s bad,” she sobbed. “It’s really bad.”

“Alice, listen to me,” I whispered urgently. “You mustn’t think about it now. You’re really good at pretending, so I want you to imagine a box in your mind. Put your vision in that box and close the lid tightly. I promise, we’ll open it later and talk about it as long as you want.”

She cried softly, but didn’t answer. I had no idea if my suggestion was working. All I knew was I had to keep her calm, or Mrs. Filkins would keep her in here all night. Her sanity wouldn’t survive it.

“Alice?” I asked. No answer. “I want you to do something else for me.”

“What?” she finally sniffed.

“I want you to go somewhere where you’re happy, somewhere where you do nothing but smile when you think of it. Can you do that for me?”

“Can you go with me?” she asked.

“Of course. You tell me about it and we’ll go to that happy place together.”  My heart ached for her. How could such a small child touch me this deeply? The evil in me that could ravage and kill and feel no remorse disappeared at the sound of her small voice. I needed her as much as she needed me. I gave her friendship and a sense of safety. She gave me hope.

“I’m in my room with Puppy…” she began.

And so we spent the rest of the hours together in her childish and innocent imagination, where harsh words are never spoken, feelings are never hurt, physical pain is nonexistent, and nightmares never creep inside.

She spoke of her dog, her toys, and the clean smell of her blankets near her face at night. Her love of the color blue, of shoes, of pretty dresses and hats. Her excursions into the park, the time she'd spent watching an inchworm crawl up her arm. Her laughter at her baby sister when she gurgled and cooed and blew little bubbles accidentally. The feel of the sun on her skin as she lay flat on her back in her mother’s garden looking up at the sky. Little snatches of time from her memory spilled softly out of her mouth as we visited all of the places that had brought her happiness in her short life.

She made me feel young, even if it was just for those few hours we talked softly through a wooden door. She made me forget what I was, what I had been. She made me believe in innocence again, in goodness, and in the worthiness of humankind. She made me think I could be happy again.

When the four hours were up, I reluctantly interrupted her. I selfishly wanted this time with her to go on forever, but I put such feelings away in my own tightly closed box. Alice was all that mattered now. “I think your time is up. I’m going to go talk to the nurse. When I return, you must behave just as you are now—no crying or speaking of your vision. No unkind remarks or frowns. Do you understand? This is very important.”

“Yes,” she answered in a clear and strong voice.

“I’ll return shortly.”

I found Mrs. Filkins and approached her in a very non-threatening way. Now was not the time to instill fear. “Alice is calm now. Has been for a couple of hours.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she huffed.

I followed her down the halls to the isolation room. Along the way she harangued me about my absence from my duties. She issued veiled threats of reporting me for not caring for the patients, for interfering in Alice’s treatment and a myriad of other complaints, most of which I tuned out. I kept telling myself, as my fists clenched and unclenched, that now was not the time to irritate her. I kept my mouth closed and held my temper in check. We stopped outside the door to the small room. I had to fight back a smile at the look on Mrs. Filkins’ face. Alice was humming!

“Alice?” Mrs. Filkins called loudly through the door.

“Yes, Mrs. Filkins?” she answered sweetly.

I fought back a smile at how absolutely normal she sounded. There was no way Mrs. Filkins could mistake that for hysteria or delusions. Mrs. Filkins raised her eyebrows in surprise. She quickly realized she had no choice but to open the door, especially with me watching her every move. She pulled the key out of her pocket and cautiously unlocked it.

When the dim light from the hallway shone into the small, dark room, Alice was sitting near the door where she had sat with me all evening. Her knees were pulled up under her chin with her arms wrapped around them. She raised her head and smiled up at both of us. My heart swelled with pride at her inner strength. Only I could see the fear dancing in her eyes, the barely concealed panic that was hovering at the edges of her mind. Her heart was pounding in her little chest, but still she smiled at Mrs. Filkins like being locked in a dark room was something she experienced every day.

"Hmmph, she seems to be perfectly fine,” Mrs. Filkins muttered under her breath. “Come out, child.”

Alice got up and pulled her chin up high, straightened her little body and walked calmly out into the hallway. Mrs. Filkins looked her up and down and nodded her approval.

“I’ll take her back to her room if you’d like,” I suggested.

“That will be fine. I’ve wasted enough time on her already this evening.” And with that nice remark, she turned and stalked off.

_Not today, but soon._

As soon as Mrs. Filkins disappeared around the corner, Alice’s poise crumbled. She collapsed against my legs and wrapped her arms tightly around them. I gently loosed them and squatted down until we were eye-to-eye. She threw her arms around my neck and started to cry—deep mournful sobs that were painful to hear. I shushed her softly and complimented her on what a brave little girl she was. I pulled her back and wiped her tears away.

My thirst flared to life as I breathed the sweet smell of her blood. Her hands were scraped and bleeding from pounding on the door. The droplets were becoming dried and crusted, but were enticing nonetheless. I waged a silent battle as the demon within me raged, but just one trusting look from those huge pools of green gave me the strength to push my disgusting needs aside.

With her small fingers wrapped around mine, we walked slowly back toward her room. Somewhere along the way she mentioned that she was hungry. We made a quick stop in the kitchen and rummaged around in the ice chests and cabinets until we found some things suitable for her to eat.

When we finally arrived back at her room, she crawled up onto her bed of her own accord. She pulled the blankets and sheets up tightly underneath her chin. I gave her the food and she ate without thought. Her eyes were distracted and focused on something not in this room.

“I have to tell you about the vision,” she said softly in between bites.

“Of course.” I pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down to listen, but she seemed reluctant to start. “It’s all right Alice. You’re here with me now. You’re safe. Now tell me, what was your vision about?”

A tear slid slowly down one cheek. “Mary Grace."

 


	14. Strength and Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little clarification now. Some of my readers have the mistaken notion that Morgan is an old man! No, no, no!! He’s an old VAMPIRE! (somewhere in the vicinity of 800+ years). But he is a young and handsome 21 years old! There’s a big difference there! LOL
> 
> I played around with morphthing.com until I came up with the closest approximation of what Morgan looks like in my head. He’s a small man, a little under 6 foot tall with light brown hair. A piece of it is unruly, and always falling onto his forehead. I wanted him to appear harmless, slight of stature, and handsome, but not supermodel handsome. He’s mannerly and can be the perfect gentleman when the situation calls for that, but there’s that gleam in his eye, and that enigmatic smile that lets you know, ‘I’m dangerous. You might want to stay away from me.’ That’s the vibe that Mrs. Filkins is picking up from him.

**~ MORGAN ~**  

“Mary Grace is going to die,” she said softly as another tear slid down her cheek.

Even though she’d warned me it was bad, I was shocked nonetheless at the sense of loss I felt. I’d grown immensely fond of Miss Belmore and Alice loved her like a mother. It was imperative that I get as many details from her as I could. Maybe together, we could prevent this. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

Her eyebrows puckered together as the tears started flowing. “I can’t remember all of it. I just remember thinking when I saw her that she was dead and I wouldn’t see her anymore.”

“Where was she? Was she inside a room or outside?”

Her frown deepened. The sheet was clenched tight in her fists now, her knuckles white with the effort. “I can’t remember!” she wailed finally.

She started sobbing in earnest. She was trying too hard; she needed to relax her mind. I knew what I had to do, but still I hesitated. I’d given up using my vampire powers to manipulate humans a long time ago. The thought of using them on this innocent child disgusted me, but it was necessary, this one time. “Alice,” I whispered softly in a soothing voice, the same voice that had made countless women think themselves perfectly safe in my embrace.

Her sobbing eased as she responded to my voice. I tugged gently on her chin until her eyes lifted to mine. I very rarely looked her straight in the eyes, instead keeping my gaze somewhere just below them. Now I stared directly and steadily into those huge green eyes until I sensed the tension completely leave her body. There was no fear in her now; her body and mind were completely relaxed. It was at this point that the old Morgan would have taken her gently to her death. Gently, that is, if I'd happened to have been in a charitable mood at that moment. I shook such thoughts of my past from my mind, and concentrated on the task at hand.

“Think of Mary Grace. Picture her in your mind. Take your time and try to remember what you saw. Tell me any detail you remember.”

Her eyes lost focus and drifted away from mine. With relief, I let them go and released my hold on her. Her hand was lying limp in mine. Her eyes moved erratically as the vision once again unfolded in front of her.

“She’s lying down on her stomach. I can see her face. Her eyes are open, but they don’t look right.”

“Is she inside or outside?” 

“She’s on the ground. It looks like…sand. It’s a beach!”

“Is there anyone with her?”

“No.”

“What is she wearing? Can you tell?”

“It’s something black and white striped. Her legs are showing. It’s a bathing dress!” she exclaimed.

So, Mary Grace was going to be swimming at a beach the day she died. Her honeymoon, perhaps? “Do you see anything around her?”

“There are all kinds of things lying in the sand. I don’t know what some of it is.” Her eyes darted back and forth rapidly, seeing images only visible to her.

“Describe them to me.”

“They look like…like…pieces of a house, wood and things like that. And paper. And a shoe. There’s a little shoe close to one of her hands, and just…trash…everywhere. There’s a blue house, but it’s all torn up.”

“Can you see what the weather is like?” I asked with growing dread. The picture she was painting was becoming disturbing.

“The sky is dark. Lots of clouds, and it’s really windy. Her dress is blowing.”

“Is it raining?”

“No, but it has been. Her hair is all wet and stuck to her head.” Then she sobbed suddenly. “No! There’s a bird sitting on her! Make it go away!”

“Alice, it’s all right,” I murmured, gently stroking her hair.

She looked up at me. The sadness I saw on her face and in her eyes broke my heart. She’d lost so much already. I didn’t know if her heart could take any more. “I have to tell Mary Grace,” she gulped, trying to hold back the tears.

“We’ll talk to her together tomorrow evening when she returns to work,” I assured her. “Maybe she knows something that could help prevent this from happening. I promise you, we’re going to do everything we can to stop this.”

A small glimmer of hope shone through Alice’s tears. The guilt of strangers’ deaths on her hands was nothing compared to the guilt she’d feel if we were unable to save Mary Grace. I silently cursed a God that would put such a burden on so small a soul. 

“It would be better if you didn’t talk about this with anyone but me and Miss Belmore.”

“What about the doctor?” she asked. “He asks me about it all the time.”

I wanted to tell her to keep silent and not tell him anything, but I couldn’t ask her to lie. The doctor would find out about the incident from the nurses’ report. It went without saying that tomorrow Alice would most likely be subjected to a lengthy examination. “You have to talk to him.” I sighed. “He’ll already know about it by tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you have to tell him everything. Maybe you shouldn’t mention Miss Belmore.”

“I can do that,” she answered with a small smile.

“You need to sleep now." I helped her get comfortable, pulling the covers up over her little body. She knotted the sheets tightly in her hands and balled them up underneath her chin. Her Teddy bear had fallen off the bed during the earlier struggle with the nurses. I retrieved it and tucked it underneath the blankets with her. I was rewarded with a small, shaky smile as she closed her eyes.

I thought carefully about the details Alice had revealed: a beach, stormy weather, high winds, debris scattered around Miss Belmore’s body, garbage, a lone shoe, a torn-up house. Only one explanation came to mind: a hurricane.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

_Mary Grace can’t die! She just can’t!_ I tried to look at the magazines that Morgan left for me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Mary Grace. I tried to play with my paper dolls, but I kept seeing her lying on that beach. I tried to color, but I kept thinking about how I’d never see her again.

 _Don’t cry_. If I cried too much they’d put me back in that dark room. _I hate that room!_ _No matter what Morgan says, there’s scary things in that room. I know there is._

After lunch, the doctor came into my room. He was carrying paper and a pencil and a black bag. “Alice? Could I speak with you for a little while?”

He came in and pulled the chair over that Morgan always sat in. I didn’t want him sitting there. I didn’t answer him. I just stared at him.

“I’m Dr. Soloman. Do you remember?” he asked, smiling. I nodded, but still didn’t say anything. “I’m told that you had a vision yesterday afternoon. I’d like to talk about that with you.”

I ignored him and started playing with my paper dolls again. He stood up and started picking up my paper dolls.

“You can play later,” he said quietly. “We need to talk about what happened to you yesterday.”

His voice was soft and quiet. He sounded nice, but I didn’t know whether he really was.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Alice,” he said softly. “I want to help you, but I can’t unless you help _me_ a little.”

I stared down at my hands and picked at my gown.

“I’m sure these visions scare you. I know you’d probably like for them to go away. If you talk to me about them, then maybe I can help make them go away.”

 _I want them to go away._ If they went away, I could go home to my room, Puppy and my mommy and daddy. But then I wouldn’t get to see Morgan or Mary Grace again. I couldn’t help it. I started to cry.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly.

“They won’t ever go away,” I whispered.

“The one you had yesterday was bad, wasn’t it?”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Morgan said I didn’t have to tell him everything.

“What was so bad about it?”

I looked up finally and he was staring at me. His eyes were a pretty blue, and they were nice eyes. I didn’t think he was mean like Mrs. Filkins. Maybe he _could_ make them go away.

“Somebody died,” I whispered finally.

“You saw someone die?” His blue eyes were wide now. Grown ups always did that when I told them about my visions. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, remembering what Morgan said. I wasn’t going to say anything about Mary Grace.

“When you saw this person, was it like a picture in a book, or were things moving like it was happening in real life?”

“Things were moving,” I answered.

“Did you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Did you see anything in front of your eyes, perhaps lines, like scribbling with a pencil?”

“No.”

Every time I answered him, he wrote things down on his paper. Then he got up and poked around on me. He looked in my ears and eyes. He put something against my chest that he said could hear my heart beating. His fingers pushed on my neck. He asked me if my head ever hurt, or my stomach, or my chest. He looked in my mouth and asked if any of my teeth hurt. He asked if I had nightmares, if people talked to me inside my head, if I had trouble swallowing food or going to the bathroom. Every answer was no, and every time, he wrote on his paper.

“Are you sure you don’t know who the person was in your vision? According to the nurses, you seemed very upset afterward. That’s why they put you in isolation.”

“I’m sure,” I lied.

“Can you tell me exactly what you saw?”

“I can’t remember,” I lied again.

“Perhaps if we knew who this person was and how they were going to die, we could warn them?” he suggested. I didn’t answer. I just stared down at my bed. He sighed. “You must talk to me if I am to help you. I don’t want to have to put you in isolation again.”

I looked up at him. All of sudden I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. He looked like all the other grown-ups who never believed me. He didn’t seem nice anymore, so I looked everywhere but at him, and I didn’t answer, and I didn’t cry, either.

He finally scooted the chair back in the corner and told me he’d talk to me again tomorrow. As soon as he left my room, I covered my face and cried. He didn’t want to help me. He was going to put me back in that dark room.

_Morgan, Mary Grace! Hurry!_

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

I sprawled on the Chesterfield impatiently awaiting sunset and cursing the daylight. I hated the thought of having to leave Alice alone today. Before I had left work this morning, I had paid another visit to the nurses on Miss Belmore’s ward. They had greeted me kindly, asked about Alice, and had quickly rounded up some more magazines for her. I’d left them at the end of her bed, hoping they would occupy her thoughts today and help stave off another vision.

I was also greatly worried about the doctor and his questions. Alice was so young and could easily be manipulated into saying more about her visions than she should. The doctor and nurses must never know just how accurate her visions were. Such knowledge would most assuredly result in a barrage of “treatments”, the least of which would be the isolation room.

Upon arriving at work, I passed Mrs. Filkins in the hall. Thankfully she looked too busy to stop and talk. As she breezed by me she muttered, “No problems today, thank God,” and then she was gone around the corner.

With a sense of relief, I made my way to Alice’s room. She was playing with the doll that Mary Grace had given her. Her eyes lit up when she saw me and her worried frown turned into a smile in an instant.

“Morgan!” she exclaimed.

“Alice.” I nodded my head and smiled. “I hear you’re doing well today.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t cry. I wanted to, but I was afraid they’d put me back in that room, so I was good today.” Even as she spoke, her eyes started to fill up. “Is Mary Grace here?”

“I’m not sure. I came to see you as soon as I arrived.”

“I need to tell her.”

“We’ll talk to her tonight if she’s at work. I promise. Did the doctor talk to you today?”

“Yes. I don’t like him. I thought I did, but then he talked about putting me in that room again. I stopped talking to him after that.”

“What did you talk with him about?”

“I told him that I saw somebody dead, but I didn’t tell him it was Mary Grace,” she said quickly. “I remembered what you said, and I told him I couldn’t remember much of it.”

“That was very good. Did he examine you?”

She nodded. “He poked around on me and listened to my heart. He asked me all sorts of things, but I said ‘no’ to all of them.” She smiled proudly.

“Have you remembered anything else since yesterday?”

“No.”

“Did you enjoy the magazines?” They were in a pile at the foot of her bed.

“Yes,” she exclaimed. “And you know what? One of them has paper dolls inside. I’ve been playing with them today.”

“So I see.” I commented, laughing. They were scattered all around her, along with the clothes that went with her doll. “I have to go to work now, but I’ll bring Miss Belmore with me at dinner. We’ll talk then.”

“All right.” She sighed as turned her attention back to her doll.

 

* * *

  
About a half an hour before dinner, I sought out Miss Belmore. I wanted to speak with her privately before we saw Alice. I felt she should be prepared for what she was about to face. “Miss Belmore. I need to speak with you." I accompanied her as she went about her duties. We talked softly while she worked, careful to keep our voices low. “Alice had another vision yesterday afternoon.”

She laughed quietly. “Oh? Who’s getting married now?”

“It was bad,” I answered seriously. “She was hysterical and had to be put in isolation.”

“Oh no,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry for making light of it. Poor thing! She must have been terrified, all alone with no one to talk to. What was it about?”

“You."

She stopped what she was doing and slowly met my eyes. She must have seen the worry in them. Her hand flew to her heart. “What was it?” she asked hesitantly.

“Do you have any plans to go to the beach anytime soon?” I asked, putting off answering her question. “Your honeymoon, perhaps?”

“I don’t know. Wills absolutely refuses to divulge the location of our honeymoon. He wants it to be a surprise. Why do you ask?”

“Alice saw you lying on a beach, and you were—” I hesitated, wishing I didn’t have to say more. “—dead.”

Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “Oh my God! Alice! I have to get to her!” And with that she took off down the hall. I hurried after her, calling her name, but she ignored me and then started running toward Alice’s room. She barged in her room and then stopped; Alice was still playing with her dolls. Their eyes met and Alice could tell she knew. Tears started streaming down both of their faces.

“Mary Grace!” she cried. “Mary Grace!”

Miss Belmore rushed to her side and gathered her up in her arms. She hugged her tightly and murmured to her as she sobbed. “It’s all right. Ssh, it’s all right.” She rocked her as her little body was racked with sobs.

I stood beside both of them feeling helpless. I tenderly stroked Alice’s hair as Miss Belmore crooned to her and held her tight. Our eyes met over Alice’s shoulder. The sadness in Miss Belmore’s eyes was heart-wrenching. We both knew in a glance what was not being spoken: Alice’s visions always come true.

After a long while, she finally quieted. Miss Belmore dried her tears, smoothed her hair and sat down with Alice on her lap. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said softly. “It must have scared you terribly to see something like that and to be all alone.”

“You can’t die!” Alice wailed.

“I’m not going to die. I promise you that.”

“Yes you are,” she insisted. “If I see it, it comes true!”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t come true this time, won’t we?” she stated emphatically.

Alice’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Can you do that?” she asked in an uncertain voice. “Can you make it not happen?”

Miss Belmore looked up at me in question. How was I supposed to know?

“I think we should try,” I answered. “Don’t you, Alice?”

She looked hard at both of us before answering. “Yes,” she said, her voice stronger now.

“Have you ever tried to change the things you’ve seen?” I wanted to put the suggestion into her mind that perhaps all was not lost, perhaps the future could be changed if one set one’s mind to it.

“Well…no,” she admitted. “I didn’t think I could.”

“This is one vision that’s _not_ coming true,” Miss Belmore said forcefully. “It’s simple. All I have to do is avoid the beach for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I interjected. Then I told her about Alice’s vision of the San Francisco earthquake, and the fact that it actually happened a mere three days after her vision. “Perhaps a lifetime is a bit drastic. I suspect that Wills is taking you to a beach for your honeymoon, and from the details Alice provided it’s very likely that a hurricane is going to hit that beach precisely when you’re supposed to be there.”

“A hurricane?” she exclaimed, and then turned to Alice. “Honey, tell me exactly what you saw. Maybe there will be something I’ll recognize. Maybe it's some place I’ve been before.”

“You were lying on your stomach. There was trash everywhere and parts of broken houses. A little shoe was lying next to you. There was a blue house there, and you were wearing a black and white striped bathing dress."

I knew the instant the words left her mouth that Miss Belmore knew exactly where this was. Her expression was one of shock and wonder at the same time. “I bought a black and white bathing dress for my honeymoon. Just in case,” she whispered. “And Wills’ grandparents have a beach house in Mobile. A _blue_ beach house.”

We all three looked at each other after that revelation, each thinking our own thoughts. There was only one option. “Miss Belmore, you must go far inland for your honeymoon,” I said quietly. “Do whatever it takes to find out if the beach is your destination, and if it is, you must change Wills’ mind.”

Alice’s eyes were following ours as we spoke. Miss Belmore tugged on her chin and smiled. “Don’t you worry any more about it Alice. I promise you, I won’t be anywhere near a beach when that hurricane hits.”

“What if Wills won’t change his mind?” she asked worriedly.

“Oh he will,” she answered, grinning slyly. “He doesn’t know it yet, but his sweet, good-natured bride is about to turn into the bride from Hell. I’ll throw such a temper tantrum that he won’t have any choice but to change it.”

“You’re sure?” she asked doubtfully.

“What? You don’t think I can be mean?” She chuckled. “You just wait and see. There’s no way a little old hurricane is going to take me away from _you.”_

“I love you, Mary Grace.” She sniffed and wrapped her arms around her neck, squeezing until Miss Belmore had to plead for relief.

Then she reached for me. “I love you too, Morgan!” she exclaimed. I picked her up and hugged her tight.

She’d never said those words to me before. _I love you._ Everything that had seemed wrong with my life was suddenly right. Unconditional love was so rare, especially for someone like me. I cherished every single instance of it that found its way into my life, and especially this unconditional love of a six-year-old human child.

“I love you, too,” I whispered. _More than you’ll ever know…_

“I’m hungry,” she announced with a giggle.

“Well then, we’ll take care of that straight away."

I deposited her on the bed and went to get her meal. As I left the room, Mary Grace was smiling and joking with her, all the fear and dread of before forgotten, or at least, put away where it wouldn’t worry Alice. She was a strong and compassionate woman, our Mary Grace. Wills was a lucky man.

I suspected that Alice would grow into the same type of woman. I’d already seen the evidence of her inner strength. She had an iron will, but yet was quick to laughter and generous with her affections. One day she would make some lucky fellow a very happy man…

 

M **ORGAN GRANT (AKA MICHAEL GOLLAND) ~ A morph of Ian Somerhalder and Jamie Bell**

 

**MARY GRACE BELMORE**

 

 


	15. Unexpected Company

**~ ALICE ~**

After breakfast, I got out my crayons and paper and drew pictures of Mary Grace, Morgan, and the wedding. In my pictures, I was the maid of honor and Morgan was the best man, and Mary Grace was beautiful in her dress.

Morgan had told me last night that there were only three days left until the wedding and nothing had changed. Mary Grace said Wills still would not tell her where they were going on their honeymoon. She was still going to die. I sniffed and wiped my eyes before anyone saw. If the nurses saw me cry, they always fussed over me and asked lots of questions. Ever since my vision, they watched me all the time. So, I didn’t cry anymore. Hardly ever. Sometimes at night when no one was around, I did, but mostly I didn’t.

I was in the middle of drawing a picture of Cynthia and Puppy when another vision came. It was of Mary Grace, and she was sitting in a rocking chair holding a baby. She was singing and rocking and patting its back like mommy did when she was burping Cynthia. Wills was standing beside her, smiling and playing with the baby’s hand. Then it went away, just like that.

I thought about what it could mean. I wished Morgan was here so he could help me, but he told me all the time how smart I was, so I should be able to figure it out. I thought and thought and the only thing I could think of was that Mary Grace wasn’t going to die. If she had a baby, that meant she wouldn’t die on her honeymoon. I smiled to myself. Mary Grace wasn’t going to die! She was going to be all right!

I couldn’t wait until Morgan and Mary Grace got here so I could tell them.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

I nearly collided with Mrs. Filkins as I rounded a corner on my way to Alice’s room. She murmured an annoyed ‘excuse me’ and then hurried on about her business. Alice must have been having a good day. Such was the only explanation for Mrs. Filkins’ foul mood.

I smiled to myself as I made my way to Alice’s room. I heard her singing softly long before I saw her face. She raised her head as soon as I walked in her door. She squealed in delight and started bouncing on the bed. “Mary Grace is going to be all right! She’s not going to die!” she exclaimed, giggling happily.

Puzzled, but unable to contain my laughter, I crossed the room to her bed. “Alice, calm down! Stop bouncing and tell me what’s going on!”

She stopped, but was still bubbling with excitement. “I had a vision this morning. Mary Grace was sitting in a rocking chair rocking a baby. Wills was with her and holding its hand. Mary Grace isn’t going to die! She’s going to have a baby! Lots and lots of babies!” she announced, laughing.

I didn’t know what to think of Alice’s latest vision, so I smiled along with her and hoped that Miss Belmore would be at work tonight so we could talk with her about it. No sooner had the thought went through my mind, than Miss Belmore herself poked her head in the door.

“Alice, Mr. Grant! Good news!” She scurried in the room and hugged Alice as she continued. “I have to get to work, but I couldn't wait until dinner to tell you. I’m not going to the beach for my honeymoon. Wills still refused to tell me where we were going, so this morning I threatened to call the whole thing off if he didn't tell me. I must have looked like I really meant it, because he immediately broke down and told me, and we were right! He was planning to take me to Mobile, to his grandparents’ cottage.” She paused only for a second, and then continued on breathlessly. “I told him in no uncertain terms that I was not spending the most romantic time of my life getting sand in places where it shouldn’t be and getting my skin all burned like a common farm girl. I threw such a fit that he changed his mind and is taking me to the mountains to a mineral spring. So I’m not going to die. I’m going to be fine.”

“We know,” I said after she finally finished. Alice and I were both smiling. She looked from one of us to the other in confusion. I nodded at Alice, silently giving her permission to tell her.

“I had a vision of you this morning,” she said excitedly. “You were sitting in a rocking chair holding a baby. And Wills was there, too.”

Miss Belmore glanced my way, her brows drawn together in confusion.

“Evidently, Alice’s visions are subjective. Things can change if the people in them change their minds or do something different to alter the future.” My mind was swirling with the new possibilities her gift presented. To not only be able to see the future, but also to have the ability to change it as well. It was astounding.

“A baby?” she whispered softly. “What did it look like? Was it a boy or a girl?”

“It had brown curly hair. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl,” she said, still grinning.

“Oh, Alice. Thank you,” Miss Belmore said, gathering her up in her arms. “You’ve just made me so incredibly happy! I have to go to work now, but I’ll see you at dinner, same as usual. We’ll talk about the wedding.”

Alice giggled excitedly and then went back to playing with her doll.

I left the room with Miss Belmore, preparing to go about my own duties. She stopped me with a hesitant touch of her hand on my arm. “Mr. Grant,” she said quietly. “Would it be possible for us to have a private talk before we meet Alice this evening?”

I had no idea what she could possibly want to talk with me about in private, but we agreed to meet on a second floor balcony in an isolated area of the hospital at dinner time.

As I went about my duties for the night, my mind raced with possibilities and questions about Alice.  _Such an intriguing power…_

 

* * *

  
About twenty minutes before it was time for us to take Alice her dinner, Miss Belmore and I met upstairs. We moved onto the secluded balcony and shut the doors tightly behind us. The moon was full and bright tonight, the sky clear and glittering with stars. I berated myself for not thinking of bringing Alice up here occasionally for some fresh air. It would lift her spirits immensely. I would remedy that oversight the first chance I got. Miss Belmore stood beside me, her hands on the railing, staring off into the darkness. I wondered again what this conversation could possibly be about, and waited patiently for her to begin. Finally, she turned to me.

“Mr. Grant—“ she began.

I interrupted her before she could go any further. “Please, call me Morgan. I think we’ve moved beyond such formalities,” I said with a gracious smile.

“All right… _Morgan_ ,” she said. “And you call me Mary Grace, then.” I nodded silently. “Morgan, is there no possible way you can attend my wedding? It would mean so much to Alice. You’d have all the details for her and she wouldn’t have to wait until I returned from my honeymoon to hear all about it.”

“I’m sorry, no,” I answered. “My condition won’t allow it.”

“Is there nothing you can do? Medicine? A cure?” she persisted.

“No.” I sighed sadly. “You don’t know how many times I have wished there were a cure.”

She hesitated and then continued. “Let me apologize in advance if anything I’m about to say in any way offends you." I waited patiently for her to continue. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I have a friend. She’s very refined and a capable homemaker and seamstress. She warm and engaging, and very educated—all qualities I know you admire. I’d like to introduce you to her if you would so wish.”

I sighed inwardly. Was there no end to people interfering in my solitude? “I appreciate your thinking of me, and she sounds very nice, but I assure you, I’m not at all interested.”

She laid a hand gently on my arm. “I sense such loneliness in you. It’s so unnecessary. There are plenty of young ladies whom I know would jump at the chance to help ease that loneliness. Several in this hospital, actually.”

I was momentarily taken aback at her revelation. I detested being the object of anyone’s attention, let alone being considered as a possible suitor. I’d always striven to keep a low profile wherever I went and associate as little as possible with the humans around me for the sole purpose of preventing something such as this from happening. I stared off into the night. “A woman has to be able to love what is in a man’s heart,” I said quietly. “Not just what she sees on the outside.” I glanced at her, careful to not meet her eyes. “I’m not an easy man to love."

She sighed in exasperation. “You always say the most enigmatic things. What does that mean? You’re a kind man, handsome, educated and cultured. What’s not to love?” she argued gently.

 _Plenty,_ I thought.

“You’re capable of loving deeply. I see that in you when you’re with Alice,” she continued. “Has there been no one in the past who has touched your heart?”

“That is none of your concern,” I snapped, and immediately regretted my tone.

“I am sorry. It seems I have offended you,” she said apologetically. “Please forgive me.”

“No, it is I who must apologize.” I sighed. “It’s just that some things are too painful to remember.” And with that, I turned on my heel and left her alone on the balcony. I hurried to Alice’s room, anxious to see her welcoming smile and to talk with her. Anxious to leave the memories behind…

 

* * *

  
Just as the sun was breaking over the horizon, I stepped up onto my porch. I checked my mail slot and was just preparing to go inside, when I heard a soft, seductive voice behind me.

“Well, well, well. Hello there, Michael,” she purred. 

The sound of her voice ran an unexpected shiver down my spine. I silently scolded myself for being so careless. In my preoccupation with thoughts of Alice and her gift, I’d let my guard down, something I rarely ever did. I turned slowly to give myself time to recover from the shock of hearing that voice after all this time. “It’s Morgan, now. I no longer use that name,” I said stonily.

“Michael, Morgan…whatever.” She chuckled dismissively. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? We wouldn’t want to startle the humans, now would we?” She smirked and brushed past me and through my front door into the parlor.

“What are you doing here, Celine?” I demanded as I followed her inside.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. My body responded automatically to hers with a sick familiarity. _Old habits…_

“I’ve come back to play,” she murmured seductively. “God, but I’ve missed you… _Morgan_ ,” she exclaimed softly. “And I can tell—“ She purred deep in her throat as she brushed her body against mine. “—you’ve missed me, too.”

I extricated myself away from her and stepped back across the room. The more distance I put between us the better.

“Oh, now that’s not very friendly,” she pouted.

“Leave,” I said flatly. “I don’t live that life anymore, haven’t for awhile now.”

“Poor Morgan,” she crooned. “You must be bored to death.” She laughed uproariously at her own joke. She hadn’t changed one bit since I’d last seen her. “You know, I’ve searched the world over since we parted ways and I’ve not found anyone as entertaining as you.” She pouted again. “We simply must team up again. We make such an attractive and deadly pair.”

“I’m not interested. I have a life here in Biloxi that suits me,” I answered firmly. “So, just leave.” I gestured to the door.

We stared at each other from across the room. Her eyes burned bright red from a fresh feeding. Mine, I knew, were a dull reddish brown from prolonged thirst. Her golden hair flowed down her back. Her body was curvaceous, luscious and decadent. She was so beautiful and enticing. The dark side of me longed for the freedom and pleasures that Celine’s body offered. The ache of the longing was almost a physical pain it was so strong.

“No. I’m not leaving,” she stated emphatically, her hands on her hips.

“Then I’ll have to kill you,” I said quietly.

She arched one eyebrow. “Not if I kill you first,” she purred.

I wasn’t going to play this game with her. Not today. “Go ahead and try,” I sneered.

“Come on, Morgan,” she whispered as she took slow steps toward me. “Do you remember how it was between us? Remember the fun we had? The incredible sex, and the blood?” She was standing against me now, her face inches from mine. “Remember all the blood? _Remember?_ ” she whispered seductively. She glanced around in disdain. “This little house of yours looks fragile.” Then a smile spread slowly over her face. “Let’s go somewhere where we can get violent together.”

“Back away from me…now.” A growl rumbled lowly in my throat before bursting free. _“Now!”_ When she hesitated, I raised my hand slowly to her face. Wariness crept into her eyes and her body tensed in fear.

“You haven’t hunted in a while. I think you’re too weak to use your power.”

I smiled as I softly stroked her cheek with my thumb. “Would you care to test that theory?”

She stared at me in indecision for a moment or two, and then she backed off. “My God, Michael!” she huffed. “There’s no need to get testy!”

“It’s Morgan,” I corrected her.

“ _Morgan._ Excuse me.” She plopped down on the Chesterfield sofa in disgust. “I need a place to stay for awhile. This will have to do, I suppose.” She sighed expansively as her eyes swept over her surroundings.

“You’re not staying here,” I stated firmly. In my mind I was thinking _‘go and torment someone else and leave me the hell alone!’_

“I won’t get in your way.” She smiled crookedly. “I’ll be as good as gold.”

“It’s out of the question. I have obligations.” _And no time, or inclination, to keep an eye on you!_

“You know, you’re really being very disagreeable.” She glared at me in scarlet, her flirtatious tone was gone, replaced with a burgeoning anger. “If I recall, there are those who would kill to know where you are. Perhaps I should enlighten them.”

In the blink of a human eye, I was across the room and my hands were around her throat. Rage emanated from me like an oppressive heat on a summer day. “Who sent you?!” I hissed, squeezing my fingers tightly. When she didn’t answer, I squeezed even tighter. _“WHO?!”_

“Michael…., Morgan…—“ She grimaced between clenched teeth. “No one sent me. I swear. I wouldn’t tell anyone about you. You know that.”

I stared into her eyes and found that I believed her. I relaxed my grip on her neck, just a fraction. “If I find out that you’re here for any other reason except to renew our old acquaintance, you will suffer the consequences.” I stroked her hair tenderly and ran a finger softly down her cheek. “And it won’t be death.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” she whispered in astonishment. “You wouldn’t use your power on me.”

“Yes, I would. Without hesitation.” Before I’d jeopardize my future with Alice, I’d do anything to anybody if they got in my way.

“You’ve changed,” she observed, narrowing her eyes.

“No, not really.” I gave her a small smile and released my grip on her neck. “Only my _goals_ have changed.”

“Oh, you have goals now.” She snickered. “How incredibly quaint. But tell me, what goals could a centuries old vampire possibly have that’s important enough to give up what we had together?”

 _Happiness. Love. Another chance at life...finally._ But I told Celine none of that. I did not trust her with such personal information. It would put too much power in her hands, and I would never allow anyone to exert that type of power over my life. No one except Alice. “Peace and quiet,” I answered instead. “Something you’d know nothing about.”

“And I don’t _want_ to know anything about it either,” she said with a smirk. “Peace and quiet sounds hideously boring.” She rose to her feet and brushed her body up against mine, then ran a solitary finger slowly down my chest to the top of my trousers. “Sounds like you need a little excitement in your life,” she murmured, running her tongue seductively over her lips.

That was the last thing I wanted or needed.

“Don’t worry, Michael.” She chuckled softly. “I won’t force you to do anything against your will.” She sauntered over to the sofa and stretched out, her long, bare legs showing scandalously out from underneath her dress. She growled seductively. “You’ll be begging me for it before it’s over.”

She laughed smugly. I turned my back on her and fought the urge to rip her luscious body to pieces. This was the last thing I needed right now. My past had finally come back to haunt me.

 

**CELINE**

 


	16. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book mentioned in this chapter does exist. It’s an ancient Indian text that details various sexual positions. (The reference to page 25 is probably inaccurate, since I have absolutely NO idea what is actually on page 25. But, if you’re extremely interested in such things, you can Google the book and the position mentioned. It’s quite illuminating!

**~ MORGAN ~**

“How did you find me?”

Celine was sitting at the kitchen table across from me, still and watchful. A small shrug. “I was drifting through Georgia and Alabama. It was quite by accident actually. I happened upon a man who is very interested in speaking with you. He had an idea where you were living, but he couldn’t come here himself. He’s a very busy boy right now.” She smirked and then continued. “So, I volunteered to look for you. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” Her hand lazily caressed mine as her eyes traveled slowly over my face. I knew that gaze and the thoughts that went with it.

I withdrew my hand and sat back in my chair out of her reach. “Who?” I asked bluntly.

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Daniel.”

Daniel. I was surprised that he was even alive. It’d been quite awhile since I’d heard his name spoken aloud and even longer since I’d seen or talked to him. It was best if it stayed that way. “Tell him I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard what he wants.”

“Nothing he could say would even remotely interest me,” I stated flatly. “So you can report back to him that you tried, but no luck.”

She clucked her frustration and got up from the table. “Why are you being so stubborn?!”

I ignored her remark and returned my attention to the book I had before me. She began to wander aimlessly along my book shelves, her finger trailing from book to book as she randomly recited titles aloud. “The Compleat Art of Land-Measuring, The Tryal of Thomas Earl of Stratford, Elements of the Science of Botany. My God, when did you become such a bore?” she exclaimed. “Charlie’s Year at the Farm??”

“It brought back memories,” I said quietly.

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, A Tale of Two Cities, and, oh my, Dracula???” She laughed uproariously.

“I found it amusing.”

Suddenly she stopped and grew still. “Aaaah, now here’s one I can sink my teeth into.” She pulled a volume out of the shelves and caressed it lovingly. “The Kamasutra.”

I groaned inwardly. Out of the hundreds of books I owned, she had to find that one.

She opened it and then threw a brilliant smile my way. “It’s our copy! I can’t believe you kept it!” she exclaimed softly. “To my eternal lover…” She read the inscription aloud even though we both knew it by heart. “May we never tire of each other, or of page 25.”

“You can have it if you wish. I have no use for it now,” I said dismissively, returning to my reading.

She crossed the room and laid the book on the table in front of me. “Page 25.” She sighed. “Our favorite. Remember?”

She trailed her fingers slowly up my arm and crept up behind me. She dipped her head until her lips were against my ear and her hands were caressing my chest. Chill bumps raced up my back. “The Embrace of the Jaghana. Such a stimulating position,” she whispered into my ear.

“Celine. Stop.”

“It wasn’t the position so much as the biting,” she murmured seductively. “I adored the biting. And if I recall, you liked it as well.”

She nipped her teeth along my earlobe. My body responded automatically and my weakness infuriated me. I growled in rage and launched her away from me. She flew backwards and hit the opposite wall full of book shelves. Books crashed all around her as she slumped to the floor. I stood over her, fists clenched and ready to kill.

“I love it when you get violent.” She pushed the fallen books off of her and started to stand.

I helped her by gripping her by the neck and pulling her body up until our faces were inches apart. “I want you out of here tomorrow,” I said, my voice low and quiet with barely suppressed rage. “Do you understand?”

Her body was limp, her eyes wary.

“Do you understand?!!” I screamed in her face.

Her body went from limp to molten lava as she wrapped herself around me. She clutched my hair in her fists and pulled my mouth roughly onto hers. The kiss was deep and violent. My grip relaxed on her neck, and then finally fell away as my hands snaked into her hair. Her nails scraped along my neck and raked down my back as our mouths and bodies ground against each other.  My desire for her was a powerful force that had lain dormant for years. I fought against it, even as my body pressed hard against hers. Whimpers of pleasure and pain filled the room as we scratched and dug our fingers into each other’s skin. I wanted her but I couldn’t afford the price I’d have to pay to have her. I snarled in frustration and pushed away from her. I unwrapped her legs from around me and then pinned her arms against the book shelves. I stared into her eyes for an endless eternity.

“You have to leave,” I stated firmly and emphatically.

“Please let me stay.” Her eyes softened as they swept over my face. “I love you, Michael. I’m the only one who understands you and accepts what you are. Let me stay.”

Her words struck a chord in me. The loneliness of my existence was eating away at me. The knowledge of what I was, and trying to suppress it, was mentally exhausting. I needed someone I didn’t have to keep secrets from, someone to talk to, someone who understood me. I told her she could stay.

 _God help me._ But since there was no God, there was no help _for_ me.

 

* * *

  
I arrived at work later than usual. Celine and I had begun calmly talking and time had slipped away from me. It was near dinner before I finally approached Alice’s room. I knew even before I got there that it was empty. The small heartbeat that always greeted me was absent. Her scent only lingered in the room instead of permeating it. No smile. No sparkling green eyes. No bubbling laughter. A note was propped against her pillow:

_Morgan,_

_We waited as long as we could. When you arrive, please join us on the balcony on which you and I spoke last night._

_Sincerely,_   
_Mary Grace and Alice._

  
I smiled and rushed upstairs to the balcony. When I opened the doors, Mary Grace and Alice were seated at the patio table. A linen tablecloth was spread across it, a small oil lamp glowed in one corner of it, and a flowery tea set took up most of it. A plate of finger sandwiches occupied another corner. Alice was sitting on a stack of books so she could reach the table. They were talking quietly when I entered.

“You’re finally here. Alice was on the verge of becoming distraught,” Mary Grace said with a soft laugh.

I glanced at Alice. She was grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing in her seat. I chuckled at her exuberance. “She doesn’t look distraught to me.”

“Well, we’ve been talking of the wedding. She’s a little excited." Mary Grace smiled and gestured at the empty chair across from her and next to Alice. “Please sit.”

“To what do we owe this occasion?” I asked, smiling as I took my seat.

“This is my last night at work until after I return from my honeymoon. I decided to have a tea party. I brewed the tea myself, and the tea set was mine when I was a little girl.”

“She’s going to let me keep it," Alice said excitedly.

“That’s very kind of you, Mary Grace."

We spent the next several minutes pouring tea. Mary Grace showed Alice the proper way to pour: how to balance the pot and secure the lid, how to pour the tea slowly without splashing or making a mess. All three of us laughed together as we practiced holding our pinkies out just right when we raised our teacups. Then we sat back in our seats and sipped our tea and nibbled at sandwiches while a warm breeze wafted over us and the night sky filled with stars. I listened in contentment as Alice and Mary Grace talked softly of weddings and honeymoons. I felt no need to interject into their conversation. I simply sat and relaxed and soaked up the warmth and comfort of their murmurings. Such an evening filled with the gentile conversation of two pleasant young ladies was a thing of the past for me. I was enjoying it immensely.

“I’m going to marry Morgan when I grow up.” Alice giggled, and I snapped out of my reverie at the mention of my name.

“Really?” Mary Grace chuckled and glanced my way in surprise. “Did you have another vision?”

I actually found myself holding my breath for her answer. Had she had a vision of me?

“No. I pretended it,” she said with a slight frown.

“Did you know about this?” Mary Grace asked, raising an amused eyebrow in my direction.

“Well, actually, yes I did. Alice informed me of it a while back. I tried to explain the height differences and such, but it didn’t seem to matter to her.”

Alice was grinning, her eyes bubbling with joy. “And we’re going to have lots of babies too."

“Really?” Mary Grace’s eyebrows arched in surprise again. “How many is ‘lots’?”

I looked at Alice. She looked at me and giggled. I sighed. “Eighty-seven.” Mary Grace broke out in laughter and I joined her. Alice was frowning.

“Honey, you’re going to be knee-deep in nappies if you have that many babies. What about poor Morgan? If husbands don’t get enough attention they leave and look for greener pastures.”

The smile fell from her face. Alice looked at me, her eyes suddenly thoughtful and worried. “Would you leave?”

Mary Grace’s expression was crestfallen. I was sure she'd meant no harm with her words, and wished she could have taken them back. Alice was so insecure that any mention of anyone leaving brought her feelings of abandonment quickly to the surface.

“Of course not. If you were with me I’d _never_ leave you.”

“Never?” Alice asked.

“Never, ever,” I answered with conviction. “We’d be together forever.”

Alice smiled once again and turned her attention back to her tea. Mary Grace stared at me in silence, her eyebrows pulled together in a small frown. Our eyes met and held. I could see understanding in hers, and confusion. So, she knew. She knew I loved Alice, but she was confused. She didn’t understand the depth of that love or my intentions. Of course she didn’t understand. Mary Grace was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle: immortality. I could wait for Alice as long as it took for her to mature, and when she was mine, I could stay with her for eternity. Human love was bound by time, but immortal love knew no bounds, and that was what I wanted: Alice’s love and acceptance for all time.

 

* * *

  
I arrived home the next morning to an empty house. Even though I had told Celine she could stay, I was relieved that she was gone, even if for just a day. I briefly wondered what she was doing, but quickly dismissed my curiosity. I was just glad she wasn’t home. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Today wasn’t a day for talking or reading; it was a day to relive the past. Celine’s reappearance into my life had dredged up old memories that I had kept locked away, and once the trickle of memories started, it quickly turned into a torrential flood.

Memories of my childhood, the warmth of my mother and the closeness I’d felt with my father. Sorrow at the death of my siblings as I'd watched them perish one-by-one to disease.

Blond hair, a sweet smile and flashing blue eyes. Holding hands behind the bushes. Stealing kisses. Chasing dreams. Young love, so innocent and true.

Red eyes. Dark flowing hair. A beauty beyond anything known to me before. A love so intense it consumed me, and eventually killed me. And then death. Blood. Agony. And an eternal hell.

The years after that were soaked in blood. At the heart of it was the evil I fought inside of me, and struggled, even now, to keep at bay. There could be no atoning for what I’d done in those years. I’d done so much wrong, and hurt so many people that no amount of good works could ever make up for it. I wondered sometimes why I even bothered to try. It would be so much easier to give in to the siren song and let my impulses rule my life once again.

Celine was one of those siren songs. She called to me with her body and the memories of our time together. It was dangerous for her to be here, but I felt myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She was comfort, familiarity, and understanding, but she was also a sharp dagger, a lethal dose of poison. She had the power to consume me if I gave it to her. I had to stay alert and watchful. I didn’t trust her. She was hiding something from me, but I didn’t know what. Another reason to allow her to stay—to uncover her secrets.

But I also had to be careful. Celine was a lethal predator with absolutely no empathy for humans. She was a powerful succubus who preyed on men with gleeful abandon. No man, human or vampire, could withstand her charms when she turned the full force of her will on them. I was the only one who had been able to keep her power at bay long enough to have a relationship with her, and that was because the strength of my power matched her own. Therein lay the attraction between us. We were drawn to each other’s gifts. She feared mine, I wanted to drown in hers. When we were together, we were a violently intense and deadly couple. We were better off apart, which was why I’d left her.

 _Alice._ I had to stay focused on what it was I really wanted. I couldn’t afford to let anyone divert me from my path. No one’s blood had ever sung to me like Alice’s. Never in all the eight hundred years of this damned existence had anyone touched me as deeply as she had. At least, no one after… _her._

Even in my mind I couldn’t say her name; the pain it brought was too great. The loneliness and emptiness of her loss still had a place in my heart. There was a void in me, a barren place devoid of all feeling where the memories of her lived. No one had ever been able to completely fill that void. Only Alice gave me hope that the pain could be lessened, and maybe someday replaced with a deeper love. I angrily pushed the memories of her away and considered this new threat to my peace and quiet.

 _Daniel._ A brilliant, beautiful, but impulsive young vampire who was equal parts powerful, ambitious and maddening—a dangerous mix. He’d pulled me into one of his schemes before, and even though he hadn't twisted my arm, I'd barely escaped with my life. I wondered briefly what new scheme he had cooked up and whether Celine was involved in it. Whatever it was, I wanted no part of it. My rebellious days were long behind me. I had the life I wanted… _almost_. All I needed was to keep my past at arm’s length for a little while longer. Just a few years were all I needed.

Alice’s gift would most assuredly be amplified when immortality was bestowed upon her. The power to see the future and stay one step ahead of those who would harm us was a seductive one. Her gift combined with mine would make us practically untouchable. That was all I wanted. I had no grandiose desire for power over others, no desire to rule vampires or control them, never had. All I wanted was peace and quiet and a chance to live a somewhat normal life. If I had to use my power and hers to get that chance for us, then I would. Nothing or no _one_ was going to stand in my way.

But behind all the planning there was a nagging thread of doubt. A tiny voice kept whispering to me, trying to make me see the one flaw in this future I envisioned, and that one flaw was unpredictability. It was impossible to predict what type of vampire Alice would become.

Before I was changed, I was never considered a violent man. I was even-tempered and calm, slow to anger, quick to smile and forget a trespass. I was reborn a monster: violent, evil and unrepentant, with a long memory and an endless streak of vengeful need, with two powerful gifts—a rare occurrence in the vampire world. If I would have known what I was going to turn into, I would have never begged her to change me. The thought of turning my sweet Alice into a similar monster tormented me and continued to fuel my indecision over what to do with her. I’d walk away from her and never look back if, by turning her, she was destined to become like me.

If only I could know for sure. If only Alice could see her own future in time for me to make a decision…


	17. The Fairy Tale (Part 1)

**~ MORGAN ~**

"Say your ones, Alice," I instructed. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her food tray untouched. I had been unable to coax her into eating and was now trying to prod her into reviewing her addition facts.

She sighed, but continued to ignore me.

"One plus one is...?" I prompted, and then waited patiently for her answer.

"Two," she mumbled with a deep sigh.

"That's correct. Now _you_ continue."

She pulled her eyebrows together in a deep frown and glared in my direction. "I don't care about the silly ones!"

Today was Saturday the 22nd of September, 1906: Mary Grace's wedding day. I had figured that Alice would be sad today, but I'd never counted on such obstinance. Every diversion I had tried had been met with stubborn resistance. She refused to eat, refused to play with her doll or paper dolls, showed no interest in drawing or coloring, and especially no interest in her lessons. She was short with me and glared at Mrs. Filkins every time she passed her open doorway. She sighed quite frequently and her face was frozen in a perpetual pout that no amount of humor could dispel. There was only one last thing to try.

"Perhaps you'd like me to read to you," I suggested hesitantly.

"No," she pouted. "I don't want to hear a story from my books. I know them all by heart."

I sat back in my chair in frustration. I'd never been very good at dealing with children, especially willful, disobedient children. I wracked my brain for a solution but was unable to come up with one. "What would you like to do? I'm open to any suggestions you might have."

She thought in silence for awhile and then suddenly smiled. _"You_ tell me a story."

"Me?" I asked, perplexed.

"Make up a story for me," she answered impatiently.

"Uh, what would you like it to be about?" I asked, stalling for time as I searched my memory for some sort of appropriate tale that would hold her attention.

"Princes and princesses, and kings and queens," she answered excitedly.

 _Princes and princesses. Kings and queens. An easy enough plot_. "All right," I said, smiling. "Princes, princesses, kings and queens it is."

She pulled her knees up under her chin and grinned, her eyes shining with eagerness.

I cleared my throat for effect and began:

"There was this farm boy..." I started.

Before I could continue, she frowned and interrupted me. "It has to start with 'once upon a time'."

"Of course."

I chuckled and then began again. "Once upon a time there was this farm boy. He lived with his mother and father on a small farm in England. He lived a very simple life. He plowed the garden, harvested the crops for the family, tended the horses and cows and whatever else needed to be done on the farm."

"Was he handsome?" she asked.

I smiled and answered, "Well, he didn't actually know. He didn't have a looking glass, and since horses and cows can't talk, no one ever really told him whether he was handsome or not."

"I think he was handsome," she stated emphatically.

I chuckled and then continued. "Whenever his chores were done, he'd often wander in the forest and gaze at nature, or he'd lay on his back in the grass and stare up at the sky. At night, he'd wonder about the stars. How far away were they? And were there people living up there? You see, he was very curious about everything. He'd often sit by the fireplace and listen to his father tell stories of faraway places, and he'd dream of those places and wish he could leave the farm and see them."

"Did he have any brothers and sisters?"

"Sadly, no. They all died from one disease or another until he was the only child left."

"Was he lonely?" she asked in a small voice.

I laughed. "Of course not. Cows are the best company there is. They listen to everything you say and never interrupt." I glared at her playfully as I emphasized that last word. She giggled knowingly.

"Well now...every month it was the farm boy's job to journey into the nearest village to get supplies for the farm: sugar, flour, salt, cloth, and things such as that. It was a pleasant job because he always enjoyed seeing new things and possibly meeting new people. That didn't always happen, but he still looked forward to the monthly trip anyway.

"He set off one particularly sunshiny day in his horse-drawn wagon towards the nearest village. It took him most of the morning to get there, but he paid no attention to the time. He was busy looking at everything around him, and when he got bored with that he began to daydream. He dreamed of faraway places, of castles, and of mountains so high you couldn't see the tops of them, of places where it never got cold and the sun shone bright every day."

"This doesn't sound like a princess story," she interjected with her usual pout.

"Patience, Alice. There will be a princess or two, I promise. This day, though, was to be like no other for the farm boy. After he'd arrived at the village and tied his horse and secured his wagon, he began exploring the stalls. Everyone who had anything to sell would set up a wooden stall. They'd lay their goods out on tables for everyone to see and touch. He enjoyed visiting each one and touching the cloth and smelling exotic scents he'd never smelled before.

"And then he noticed a new stall. He wandered over to it and then just stood there with his mouth hung open in astonishment. He couldn't believe what he was seeing."

I fell silent, waiting for Alice to react, as I knew she would. "What was it? What did he see?"

"Only the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his short seventeen years," I answered softly. "Can you guess what it was?"

"A pretty dress?" she suggested.

"No," I snorted. "Now what would a farm boy need with a pretty dress?" I smiled to myself as I watched the imaginary wheels turn in her head. Her brow puckered in frustration after several moments.

"I don't know. Tell me."

"He saw the most beautiful girl that he'd ever seen. She was sitting behind the table and she was smiling up at him."

"She was a princess!" Alice squealed, clapping her hands.

"No, she wasn't a princess, but she might as well have been one, such was her beauty," I answered. "Her hair was long and blond and shone gold when the sun hit it. Of course, the farm boy had never actually seen gold, but he imagined that that would be what it looked like. Her eyes were as blue as the sky on a clear summer day. And her smile...it took his breath away."

"'Can I help you with something?' she asked him. The farm boy just stood there with his mouth open looking like a fool. Her voice sounded like the sweetest music to him. He stuttered something unintelligible and then turned around and left."

"He didn't talk to her?" Alice exclaimed in disbelief.

"No." I shook my head sadly. "He didn't know what to say. He was accustomed to talking only to cows. What in the world could he say that would interest someone like her?"

"He should have talked to her," Alice pouted.

I smiled and continued on. "Well, the farm boy went about gathering all the things on his list. He carefully avoided the new stall, but every chance he got he looked that way from a distance. It was like his eyes were drawn in that direction, but all he could see was the gold of her hair. He was too far away to hear her voice or see her smile. And though he longed to stand in her presence again, he simply couldn't gather the courage to approach her.

"He left that day without ever seeing her again, but she was on his mind constantly from that day onward. While he rooted the weeds from the garden he thought of her golden hair and wondered what it would feel like in his hands. While he fed and combed the horses he tried to remember the musical sound of her voice. He smiled to himself as he chopped wood and envisioned her bright smile in his mind.

"Finally, one day he grew frustrated. He couldn't get this vision of beauty out of his head. He was literally counting the days until it was time to return to the village for supplies. He was determined that the next time he saw her he was going to speak to her. But what to say? He had no experience with flowery phrases that would make a woman's heart skip a beat. The only lengthy conversations he'd ever had were with his parents and the cows.

"He finally decided to approach it like he did everything else. You see, the farm boy had a streak of stubbornness in him. Once he put his mind to something, there was no changing it. He kept at a task until it was done exactly the way he wanted. So, he began to practice what he would say to her when he saw her next. He recited the phrases over and over again. Every day he would speak aloud the words he planned to say. But still he worried. He had no way of knowing if these were the right words. Would she think him foolish or backward? The cows listened very attentively to him, but unfortunately they never offered their opinion on the matter," I said, smiling.

That drew another giggle from Alice.

"Finally the day approached when it was time to go to the village again for supplies. Along the way, he never once daydreamed or looked around him. All he could think about was seeing her face again. He practiced the words he was going to say to her over and over again until he was sure he had them right. Then he began to worry. What if she wasn't there? Well, his worrying was needless. When he finally arrived at the village, he immediately searched for her stall, and there it was. And there _she_ was.

"He took a deep breath and walked in her direction. He never took his eyes off of her as he neared. When he finally stood before her, she was just finishing up with another customer. He took that chance to gather his courage and silently say the words he planned to speak over and over in his head. Finally, she turned those blue eyes in his direction and stared directly into his. 'Hello' she said. Then she smiled brilliantly at him. It must have been the smile that did it, or maybe it was the deep blue of her eyes, but when he opened his mouth to speak his flowery phrases that he had practiced over and over again, something utterly ridiculous came out."

I paused at that point and waited for Alice to interject. Her little body was tense, her eyes were glued to me as she waited expectantly for me to continue.

"What did he say?" she asked impatiently.

"He said, 'Nice weather we're having, isn't it?'"

Alice frowned. "That wasn't very sweet." 

"Of course it wasn't." I snorted. "He was horrified at what had just came out of his mouth. For days he'd practiced such beautiful words that he hoped would melt her heart, but instead he spoke of the weather. He suddenly felt very foolish. There was no possibility that this beautiful girl would be interested in a backward boy like himself. He was prepared to walk away once again without saying anything more, when she spoke to him again.

"'It's nicer now that you're here,' she said to him so softly that no one but he could hear. He just stood there in shock. She'd not only spoken to him after his ridiculous statement about the weather, but she had also paid him a compliment. Then she extended her hand. He looked down at her long, soft fingers and knew that she wanted to shake his hand, and the thought of touching her skin sent shivers down his spine. And then the farm boy did something that he never thought he'd have the courage to do. The thought had never even entered his mind until that very moment."

"What? What did he do?" Alice asked in a hushed voice.

Instead of answering her, I got up from my chair and stood by Alice's bed. I took her tiny hand in mine and raised it slowly to my lips. I tenderly kissed the back of her hand, then smiled down at her before dropping her hand again. Alice's eyes grew wide and then she smiled.

"He kissed her hand, just like a gentleman..." Alice sighed.

"Yes, he did. And that melted her heart better than all the flowery phrases in the world could have. She smiled up at him and his heart swelled. 'My name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Libby' she told him, even as her hand was still clasped in his. 'I'm charmed to make your acquaintance, Libby' he said softly in return.

"He reluctantly dropped her hand, even though he wanted to hold it for the rest of his life. And because he was still in shock that he'd actually touched her, he completely forgot his manners. He didn't even tell her his name in return."

'And who may I ask is this brazen stranger who dares kiss my hand in public?' She was smiling and teasing him, but he was mortified that he had forgotten even the most basic of courtesies. Her very presence seem to make him all tongue-tied and forgetful.

"'Michael,' he said simply. And so began the romance of Michael and Libby," I finished softly.

"That's not all!" Alice exclaimed after she realized I wasn't going to say anything further. "You can't stop there! Did they get married and have lots of babies?"

"Alice," I exclaimed with a laugh. "Our dinner hour is over. I'm afraid we'll have to continue the story tomorrow. But I'm warning you, I won't finish it unless you eat. You have to promise me."

"I promise," she exclaimed. "You'll finish it tomorrow?"

"Well, it's a pretty long story. I can't promise that we'll finish it tomorrow, but we'll keep going until we do."

I sighed in relief when I left her room. Perhaps we would survive the days without Mary Grace, after all. The ever-present frown was finally gone from Alice's face, and all it had taken was a story from my past. I had enough of those to last a lifetime.

 

* * *

  
The first thing I saw when I got home was a huge steamer trunk sitting by the door: Celine's wardrobe, no doubt. And the second thing I saw was Celine lounging on the sofa.

"Hello," I greeted her politely. "Where have you been?"

She shrugged. "Hunting. Where have _you_ been?"

"Working," I answered shortly.

"Working?" She snorted contemptuously. "Whatever for?"

I knew it was useless to try and explain to her the comfort that working at the hospital gave me. Trying to get Celine to understand the changes in my life would be like trying to teach the Pythagorean Theorem to Alice. I sighed inwardly and wondered why I was even going to try. "It gives my life a purpose other than killing."

"What exactly do you do when you... _work?_ " she asked curiously.

"I'm an orderly at a hospital for the insane."

"What does an orderly do?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Are you really interested in all of this?" I asked with scorn.

"Yes, I am. This change in you intrigues me."

I sighed and sat down, facing her on the sofa. "I change linens on the beds, empty chamber pots, help the nurses lift and move patients, and anything else I'm asked to do."

Her mouth dropped open in pure astonishment. "Anything else you're asked to do? Good God! Being subservient to humans is demeaning, Michael. And especially for someone as powerful as you."

"I don't consider it being subservient," I said quietly. "I'm giving back. Atoning, if you will."

"Atoning?" she exclaimed. "For what?"

"For the hell I unleashed on humanity when I was born."

She stared at me in astonishment and confusion. "You owe them nothing! They're beneath you. They're food." Then I saw the dawn of realization spread over her face. "Aaah, now I see. This hospital is your own personal feeding ground, isn't it?"

Rage flared in me like a wildfire burning out of control. "I do NOT hunt in Biloxi!" I shouted. "And especially not in the hospital! Those people are helpless, hopeless. They've been abandoned by society and especially by their families--the ones who were supposed to love them unconditionally. They have no one!"

"And you're their savior?" She smirked.

"Sometimes I _do_ help. I'm actually a very calming influence on some of the more delusional patients."

"Why don't you just quietly put them out of their misery. That would be more helpful than calming them." She snickered. "And more fun."

As I had expected, this discussion was going nowhere. I sighed in frustration and crossed the room to search for a suitable book, something that would keep me absorbed enough to ignore Celine for the rest of the day. She slid off the couch and followed me, and stopped when our bodies were only a hair's breadth from touching.

"My, my, but you smell good," she whispered seductively. "Good enough to eat." I stood still and let her run her nose along my jaw line and down my neck, and then down the front of my shirt. "I don't see how you do it." She moaned softly. "How do you keep from killing them all?"

"Self-control."

I stood motionless and let her explore my body and clothes. She ran her nose down my arm. She pulled my hand to her face and groaned softly when she inhaled the scent from it. "Who have you been touching?" she asked as she smelled every finger, as her nose moved over every inch of my palm and the back of my hand. "They're mouthwatering, whoever they are."

 _Alice._ I realized she was smelling Alice's scent where I'd held her hand, so I slowly pulled my hand from her grasp and backed away from her. "I touch many humans during the course of an evening."

She followed me and snaked an arm around my neck. "Michael," she whispered against my cheek. "Let me breathe you in. Let me taste your skin where you've touched your humans."

She ran her tongue lightly down my cheek; her lips danced softly at the edge of my mouth. My body stirred against my will. Only Celine had the power to break my control in these matters. I closed my eyes as her mouth skimmed over mine lightly, as her fingers worked at the buttons on my shirt. I moaned softly as her warm tongue slid into my mouth. Our lips moved together slowly and sensuously. Her hands snaked inside my open shirt and around my bare back. Then she buried her face in my chest and breathed deeply, moans issuing from deep within her throat.

"Maybe I should go to work with you one night." She chuckled huskily. "Perhaps I'll find a purpose there, too."

I went completely rigid--vampire still. She immediately stopped her ministrations and pulled slowly back, eyeing me cautiously the entire time. She took several steps backward. I followed her. My fingers brushed lightly down her cheek then on down her neck, where they stopped and caressed her throat gently. "Stay away from the hospital, Celine. If you so much as step one foot in that building, I'll kill you."

She backed away from me and sat carefully back down on the sofa. "You're very protective of your defective little humans," she said, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

No response was needed on my part. Celine knew from the time we'd spent together in the past that I did not make idle threats. I withdrew to the small kitchen table. She stayed curled up on the sofa. The rest of the day was spent in uncomfortable silence with both of us eyeing each other warily across the room.


	18. The Fairy Tale (Part 2)

**~ MORGAN ~**

"What's Mary Grace doing right now?" Alice asked as soon as I arrived in her room with her dinner.

"Hello to you, too." I laughed as she glowered at me, pouting her lips in childish anger. "A greeting would have been nice, but to answer your question, I don't know."

"What do you _think_ she's doing?" she persisted, still pouting.

"Well, since it's the day after her wedding, I imagine she's either on her way to the mountains for her honeymoon, or she's already there, having arrived sometime last night."

"Are you sure she didn't go to the beach?" Alice asked worriedly.

"Of that I'm sure. Mary Grace trusts you. She believes in you and your ability. She wouldn't change her mind now, not after our lengthy discussion and your vision of her with the baby. She knows how important it is to be far away from the ocean this week."

She started to pick uninterestedly at the food on her tray. "What do you do on a honeymoon?"

I sighed aloud. I sometimes wondered if Alice was an imp sent down from the far reaches of that mythological heaven for the sole purpose of tormenting my existence. "Newly-wedded couples use that time to get to know each other better."

"Don't they already know each other good enough?"

"No, they don't," I answered shortly.

"Can't they get to know each other here, so I can still see Mary Grace every day?" 

"This conversation is irrelevant. Mary Grace and Wills are far away in the mountains right this very minute getting to know one another and they won't be back for a week."

"But what are they doing?" she persisted.

I sighed inwardly. Alice, at times, had a stubbornness of will that rivaled an obstinate mule's. I knew there would be no diverting her attention until she got the answers she sought, but what answers to give her? "They're finding out what interests they have in common. They're laughing together and having fun. I imagine they're bathing in the mineral springs and eating fine food and sleeping as long as they want and shopping. Things like that," I finished, eyeing her carefully to see if my answer satisfied her.

She sighed wistfully. "That sounds like fun. I wish I could be there with them."

The sadness had crept back into her eyes again. I suspected there was a joyful soul trapped in that sad little body that longed to get out and experience all the wonders that this world had to offer.

"One day, you'll be on your own honeymoon—" She smiled brilliantly up at me. "—and you won't want a little six-year-old imp along with you." The smile turned to a frown.

"What's an imp?" 

"A small, cute, mischievous little fairy that enjoys annoying people." I snickered and touched her nose lightly with my finger.

The frown disappeared after a moment and she broke out in a chorus of giggles. "I'm an imp!"

"Yes, you most definitely are." _My beautiful and sweet, raven-haired little imp._ "Now, do you want to hear more of my story or not?" I asked, skillfully diverting her attention away from the honeymoon. At least, I hoped so.

"Yes!" She giggled and clapped her hand excitedly. _Thank goodness for the short attention spans of children._

"You promised me you'd eat, remember?" I reminded her. She dutifully picked up her fork and spoon and started shoving food into her mouth. "Alice," I scolded, half serious and half amused. "A young lady does _not_ stuff her mouth like a squirrel gathering acorns for the winter."

She let loose a muffled giggle and I waited until she'd emptied her mouth before I began.

"So, where did we leave off?"

"Michael kissed Libby's hand and told her his name," she answered.

"Oh yes. Well, after he had offered Libby his name, she invited him to share her lunch with her later. Michael eagerly agreed, even though his knees were knocking together he was so nervous at the prospect. He went on with his business, gathering all the items on his list and loading his wagon, and by the time he was finished, it was lunchtime.

"He returned to her stall just as she was getting ready to leave. She smiled up at him and offered her hand. They sat behind the stall in the grass, with their backs up against the wood and their legs stretched out before them. They shared her lunch of cheese, bread and ale as they talked and got to know each other."

"Did they kiss?" Alice interjected.

"Of course not. They didn't know each other well enough for that yet, but I'm sure the thought crossed his mind many times that afternoon. So absorbed were they in each other, that her father had to come behind the stall and remind her to get back to work."

"What did they talk about?"

"Everything. Everything they could think of. He learned that she lived in a rather large house on the outskirts of town. In fact, he'd passed it every time he'd come to the village to get supplies. She disliked the hustle and bustle of town living and was very happy to hear that Michael lived on a farm.

"She had tried to make a pet out of a small stray dog that kept haunting her doorstep. While Michael told her he had no time for pets as he had an entire stable of animals to care for.

"She had many brothers and sisters, all younger than she. He envied her that, as his were all buried in the family cemetery on his farm. She admitted to being an excellent cook, to which he admitted to being an excellent eater."

Alice stopped eating long enough to giggle. "Michael is silly!"

"Yes, at times he certainly is. But, there was only one small thing that bothered Michael about Libby." At Alice's questioning look, I continued. "He discovered that afternoon that she didn't know where the Great Pyramids were, and that she had no longing in her soul to see the temples of Greece. Her only desire was to marry and surround herself with many, many children."

Alice giggled. "Eighty-seven?"

I smiled. "Now _Alice_ is being silly. 

"Michael had hoped that she would share his longing for seeing faraway places, but she didn't. But, he found that he didn't really mind it that much. When he was gazing into her blue eyes, and listening to the musical chiming of her soft voice, and watching her lips move as she spoke, he found himself not caring about anything else.

"Before parting that day, Michael asked Libby's father if he might call on her one evening the next week. Her father slowly looked him up and down, appraising his worth as a suitor for his daughter. Michael was scared that he was going to say no, but finally her father shook his hand and gave his permission. He left for home that day with a huge smile on his face.

"After that, Michael visited Libby once a week at her home, and also once a month at the village market. After his chores were done, he'd mount his fastest horse and ride like the wind toward town. At her home, they would sit in rocking chairs on the front porch if the weather was fine, or in the parlor in separate chairs if the weather was foul. Her mother or father would always sit with them, keeping an eye out for mischief."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked, her brows drawn together in confusion. "What kind of mischief?"

"Why, kissing, of course." I laughed at Alice when she covered her mouth with both hands and giggled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.

"All they were allowed to do was hold hands while they talked under the watchful eye of her parents. They were never left alone, not for a moment. And since all they were allowed to do was talk, they learned many, many things about each other. Before too long, they felt like they'd known each other for a lifetime.

"But young love is very resourceful," I mused softly, thinking back on that day in the market, a day I would never forget as long as I existed.

"I don't know what that means," Alice said, pouting again.

"It means—," I smiled in her direction. "—that Michael and Libby wanted more than anything to be alone, if only for a few minutes. And when two people are in love, they find a way to get what they want. That's what resourceful means."

Alice nodded in understanding so I continued.

"This particular day was a busy one at the market. Autumn was not far off and people were gathering up supplies for the winter ahead. Throngs of people crowded the stalls because the summer crops had just came in and fresh fruits and vegetables were being sold everywhere.

"Libby and her father were very busy that day waiting on customers and keeping their stall stocked with goods. So busy, in fact, that her father never noticed his daughter and her beau sneaking off during her lunch break. Libby had grabbed Michael's hand almost as soon as they'd went behind the stall to eat their lunch and had tugged him along behind her. 'Let's walk!' She laughed gaily as they sneaked away up the road to the outskirts of town.

"In just a few minutes, Michael and Libby found themselves alone for the very first time. He pulled her off the road and into the quiet and privacy of the surrounding forest. They stood among the trees and just stared at each other, feeling not a little awkward at the situation they now found themselves in.

"And then Michael found the courage to ask her a question, one that he'd been longing to ask since he'd first met her." I stopped, waiting for Alice to interject, as I knew she would.

"What did he ask her?" she asked breathlessly. "I'll bet he ask her to marry him."

"No," I answered her with a smile. "He didn't ask her to marry him. He asked her if he could kiss her. You see, Alice, it's always polite to ask before you kiss someone. That's a very special thing between two people. To not ask first is the height of bad manners." She nodded seriously, evidently filing that information away somewhere in her brain for future use. I had to remind myself to be more careful about the particular details of the story. She was very intuitive and picked up on the smallest tidbits of information.

"Did she say yes?" Alice asked softly.

"Yes, she did," I answered. "Then, before he could lose what little courage he had, he kissed her. Just one soft kiss, that was all."

My thoughts suddenly drifted from that small room in Biloxi to the vast forests of England near the end of summer, in the year of our Lord, 1102:

  
_"May I kiss you?" My entire body felt like a quivering bowstring after the arrow has left to seek its target. I only hoped she didn't notice how nervous I truly was._

_She smiled up at me expectantly. "Please do," she breathed softly._

_I felt the heat of a blush—and something else, something new and intense—blanket my body at her words. I'd never touched any part of her except for her hand, and I longed to feel the silk of her skin beneath my fingers._

_I reached out and caressed her cheek with my fingertips; I ran my thumb lightly over her lips. They were so soft and warm. I could only imagine what they were going to feel like against mine. Our eyes met and spoke their own silent language. No words were necessary to understand what we wanted, what we needed from each other._

_I leaned into her, and using only the pure instincts of a seventeen-year-old boy in love, I pressed my lips against hers. I intended the kiss to be brief and chaste, but the unexpected warmth of her mouth, the scent of her perfume and her fingers brushing along my jaw destroyed all notions of propriety in me._

_I kissed her deeply and with all the pent-up emotion I possessed. Our lips parted for just an instant, and then quickly melded together again. I couldn't stop. I vaguely knew that we were going to get caught if we were away too long, but I couldn't stop, and neither could she. My hands found their way into her hair as we kissed hungrily. Her fingers dug into the front of my shirt. When a small whimper escaped her throat and found its way into my probing mouth, I finally found the strength to pull away. If I didn't, I knew I was going to do something very ungentlemanly, very soon._

_"Will you marry me, Libby?" I asked, gasping, not so much for air, but out of sheer need. She stared back at me in surprise. I waited for some answer, and when I didn't get one, I kissed her again, more forcefully this time. My tongue snaked into her mouth, eliciting a deep groan from her. I pulled away again, my eyes boring into hers, waiting for an answer._

_"Your powers of persuasion are very effective," she gasped softly and then smiled. "Yes, I'll marry you."_

_I smiled widely then pulled her face to mine again. I kissed her softly, then with more passion. I found I liked the noises that came from her throat when my tongue touched hers. I liked the feel of her fingers clawing at my chest when I sucked gently on her bottom lip._

_She pulled away, her breathing heavy, her eyes a strange and deep blue. "My God, Michael, you're good at that. Have you been practicing?" She laughed breathlessly as her fingers played along my face._

_I took her hand in mine and kissed her fingers. "When you put your heart and soul into an endeavor, you tend to do it well," I answered with a crooked grin._

  
"Morgan!" Alice shouted. "Morgan, you're not listening to me!"

I reluctantly dragged myself back into the present. Alice was fuming with six-year-old indignation. Evidently, I had ignored something very important. "I'm sorry. I was thinking about something else. Please forgive me for ignoring you. What was it you asked?"

"Was it a good kiss?"

"Hmmm. Well, Michael thought it was. It was soft and warm...and _dry_. You see, cows' kisses are wet and slobbery, so he definitely liked hers better."

"Ewwwww!" Alice laughed and then her laughter turned into uncontrollable giggles as she fell back onto the bed in hysterics. "Michael kisses cows! Ewwww!"

I laughed out loud watching her roll on her bed and giggle hysterically. Her laughter was such a joy to me, so unbridled and innocent, and it took very little effort to bring it forth. She was such a happy little soul most of the time, when she wasn't being a precocious little imp. I could hardly wait to see what type of young woman she would mature into. When she finally finished giggling, I continued with the story. "After that very nice kiss, he decided to ask her another important question."

"He asked her to marry him this time, didn't he?" she squealed excitedly.

"Yes, he did, and she accepted.

"But then, their very happy moment was interrupted by her father. Evidently he had missed his daughter and especially her help with the customers. He'd went looking for them, shouting their names as he'd looked. Luckily, Michael and Libby heard his voice in time to step out of the woods onto the road. They tried to pretend they were just out for an innocent walk, but her father was having none of it. He was very angry with both of them and forbade them to see each other for two weeks."

"Oh no!" Alice wailed. "He can't. They'll be so sad."

"But, when you break the rules, there's always consequences. Remember that." She nodded silently, once again filing away the information for future use.

"Michael and Libby knew they were wrong to sneak away like they did. So they took their punishment without any backtalk, and they didn't see each other for two whole _days._ "

"Days?" she asked, her brows drawn together in puzzlement. "I thought they couldn't see each other for two whole weeks?"

"Michael couldn't do it. He simply couldn't stay away. So he broke the rules...again."

"Oh, he's going to get in trouuuble," she said in a sing-song voice.

I sighed softly. _And he'd stayed in trouble for the next 800 years..._

"During those two weeks, Michael decided to use his time wisely. He went to his parents and told them of his wish to marry Libby. They were so happy for him that they gave him a small piece of the farm, near a clear stream, in which to build his future home. So, every evening, after his chores were done, Michael set to work on his and Libby's house. He chopped down trees, split the logs, stripped the bark off of them and began to lay the foundations for the house.

"Late in the evening of the second such day, he threw down his axe in frustration. He had to see Libby, that was all there was to it. He knew he was breaking the rules, as he saddled his horse. He knew that they would probably get caught, as he raced on his horse towards town, but he couldn't help himself.

"He found himself standing below her window, which was on the second floor, tossing pebbles against the glass. Before too long, her face appeared between the curtains. Even from the ground, her smile lit up the night. In just a few moments, she was stealing quietly out the back door and flinging herself into his arms—a bundle of soft, warm and sweet smelling linen. They kissed, of course, and talked quietly of the things they'd missed in each other's lives for the past two days. Around midnight, he reluctantly left her, promising to return again the next night, and the next, until their punishment was over."

"Did they ever get caught?" she asked worriedly.

"No. Luck was on their side. They saw each other every night, if only for an hour, until the two weeks were up."

I stopped, painfully aware that my dinner hour was over a long time ago. I was finding the telling of the past to be very cathartic, and once started, it was proving hard to stop. I felt an almost uncontrollable impulse to continue, but knew I didn't have the time, and wondered if I had the fortitude. The most painful parts of the story were yet to come.

"What happened next?" Alice prodded impatiently.

"I'm afraid our dinner hour was over long ago. We'll have to continue tomorrow."

"Just a little more! Please?" she begged.

I smiled in her direction. "Remember what I said about breaking the rules? There's always consequences. If I don't get back to work, I'll find myself out of a job, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

She shook her head vehemently from side to side, and then reached for me. I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. What had brought that on? I crossed the short distance from my chair to her bed and enfolded her in my arms and held her tightly.

"Don't leave, Morgan," she cried, her voice muffled against my chest.

"Oh, Alice," I whispered softly. "I have no intention of leaving you... _ever."_

She pulled away from me. Tears stained her cheeks. She wiped at her running nose with the back of her hand and turned those beautiful green eyes to me. "Promise?"

"I promise," I whispered, stroking her hair tenderly.

Only death could separate us now...


	19. The Fairy Tale (Part 3)

**~ MORGAN ~**

"Are you hunting anytime soon?" Celine was draped over the sofa. I felt her eyes on me, following my every move as I browsed my shelves for something to read.

"Later this week, probably Thursday," I answered absent-mindedly.

"I could come with you," she suggested. "It'd be like old times."

"I hunt alone."

"You seem to do everything alone. It doesn't have to be that way, you know," she said, smirking.

I ignored her and continued with my search.

"Wouldn't you like a little excitement? A little danger?"

I sighed and gave up trying to have any peace. "What do you want?"

"Ever heard of Benito?" she asked, the smile suddenly gone from her face.

"No. Should I have?"

"Michael! Have you really not heard about Mexico?" she asked, shocked.

"I don't associate with vampires anymore, haven't for a long time. I'm afraid I'm not up on the latest gossip."

"Benito created his own newborn army down in Mexico a few years back after he killed all the smaller covens. He moved from town to town, heading south, killing and creating newborns as he went. The southern covens then created their own newborns in response. It was an all out vampire war. I can't believe you don't know anything about this!" she exclaimed in frustration.

"I'm sure the Volturi swooped in and cleaned everything up." I sighed. "They always do."

"Of course." She snorted. "Benito was stupid. An all-out war draws too much attention. What we need is a _covert_ war."

I shot her a startled look. _A covert war? What the hell is Celine involved in?_ "What's this got to do with me?" I asked, my interest finally piqued.

"Daniel wants to talk to you."

"I told you, I'm not interested in whatever it is he's involved in. You're wasting your time," I insisted stubbornly.

"Michael." She got up and crossed the room until she stood in front of me. "Come with me and join Daniel. Help us build something that can rival the Volturi. With your power and mine combined with Daniel's we can start building our own coven. We can start small, administering justice locally and then spread out as our influence grows. We won't make the same mistake Benito made. We'll take our time creating our newborn army. We have an eternity to establish our base here in the United States and nurture our power."

I stared back at her in utter astonishment. "Are you insane? Did Daniel not tell you that we tried this bit of nonsense several centuries ago? We failed then, and he's certainly not going to fare any better now. Aro has too much power and he wields it mercilessly. I nearly lost my life over that mess once already. I'm not getting involved in it again, and if you have any sense at all, you'll get the hell away from Daniel. He's an impulsive, obsessed lunatic!"

"That's no way to talk about a man who used to be your closest and dearest friend," she chided. "He'll be disappointed, to say the least."

"He'll get over it," I snarled, my glare effectively ending the conversation.

One time of being captured and tortured by the Volturi guard and Jane, was all it had taken to dampen my revolutionary zeal. I couldn't believe Daniel was idiotic enough to try again. It was just sheer luck, along with the use of my power, that had enabled me to escape from them the first time. I'd been looking over my shoulder ever since.

_Daniel, my closest and dearest friend, you're on your own this time._

 

* * *

  
"Where were we?" I asked. Alice was sitting on her bed, fork in hand, waiting for me to continue our story.

"Michael broke the rules by going to see Libby when he wasn't supposed to. But, I have a question first," she continued quickly. "Mary Grace said that Wills had to ask her Daddy for permission to marry her. Michael didn't ask. Isn't he supposed to ask first?"

I gestured for her to eat her dinner as I sat down in my chair and prepared to continue on with my story. "You're absolutely right. Michael was being just a little presumptuous." The frown instantly appeared. I continued before she could interrupt. "Presumptuous means he just took for granted that Libby's father would approve, without even asking first. Libby reminded him that he had to ask for her hand formally. So the next time they were given permission to see each other, Michael did just that. He very properly asked for Libby's hand in marriage. Her father looked him up and down in silence for quite awhile. Michael was starting to get a bad feeling that he might say no. But in the end, her father smiled, shook his hand, slapped him on the back and said 'You'll do, son' and gave his permission.

"So, with that taken care of, Michael and Libby began to make plans. As soon as he realized how many children she wanted, he knew that the house he was building was not going to be big enough. He was going to have to add a couple more rooms and perhaps an attic."

"Ooh! How many did she want?" Alice asked, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

I chuckled. "Not eighty-seven. But, eight or perhaps nine wasn't out of the question. Children died very easily in those days, and it wasn't uncommon to have large families. That sounded just fine to Michael, because he had lost all of his brothers and sisters to illness. He didn't mind the idea of lots of little ones running around the house."

I stopped then and took several moments to consider how to approach the telling of the next part of the story. To come right out and tell exactly what had happened was, of course, not an option. Alice wouldn't understand. I had to couch it in terms she could grasp: kings and queens; princes and princesses; fantasy worlds.

She had stopped eating and was waiting expectantly for me to continue, her brows pulled together in a tiny frown. I took a mental deep breath and continued.

"Things were proceeding nicely with the building of the house, and Libby was making plans for a small wedding to be held in the early spring. But the next time he met Libby in the village for market day, Michael noticed that something was different.

"The market was usually busy, but this time it was very, very crowded. There were people there he didn't recognize, and there was a feel of excitement in the air. People were standing around chatting instead of looking at the goods for sale. Michael had no idea what was going on, of course, because he lived far away on the farm. He knew that Libby would know, so he hurried to her stall to talk with her.

"Since no one was buying much of anything, they stole away behind the stall and sat in the grass. Libby was just as excited as everyone else appeared to be and she couldn't wait to tell Michael about it. And... it had to do with kings and queens, and princes and princesses." I waited for Alice's reaction, and wasn't disappointed. Her interest piqued immediately, and I had to silently remind her to continue eating while she listened.

"The king and queen of England at the time had a son, a royal prince. Their son did not have a wife yet, and the king and queen were beginning to get worried. You see, princes were required to marry to carry on the family name and the royal line, but the prince was a very contrary sort. He had refused to marry every single princess they had introduced him to. In fact, not long before that, the prince had made a public announcement that he would not marry any princess who was not at least as beautiful as his horse."

A quizzical smile danced across Alice's lips. "His horse?"

"Oh yes, the prince loved his horse more than anything else in the world. And I daresay, he would have married it if such a thing had been possible," I said with a smile.

Alice giggled then, finally understanding the silliness of the prince's proclamation.

"Well, according to Libby, everyone was excited because the king was bringing a princess from faraway Egypt to meet the prince, in hopes that he would choose her for a wife. She was rumored to be a great beauty, but no one could claim to have actually seen her. Everyone was taking bets on whether the prince would think her prettier than his horse. She was supposed to travel through the village that very day, on her way to the castle. That's why it was so crowded. Everyone wanted to try and get a glimpse of this mysterious princess, even Libby.

"Suddenly, the sounds of the market changed; something was happening. They got up and rushed out into the waiting crowd just in time to see a grand carriage pass through the street. Michael's mouth hung open in astonishment as he took in the splendor before him: white horses, with silky combed tails pulled the carriage, guards in red uniforms rode to the rear, also on white horses. The carriage itself was draped in purple curtains, and they were pulled tightly shut against the day.

"Did he get to see the princess?" Alice asked eagerly.

"Sadly, no. The carriage proceeded quickly through the village, not even pausing on its journey. The curtains stayed tightly shut, and not one person could say they got a glimpse of the woman inside.

"Since the excitement seemed to be over for the day, Michael and the rest of the crowd went about their business and then finally went home. But all that evening he couldn't get the sight of that carriage and the white horses out of his head. He retold everything he could remember to his father, who was a collector of stories. They talked about it for a long time that evening after dinner, and his father even told him a story about the pharaohs of Egypt that had Michael's head spinning long after he should have been asleep in his bed.

"After a week had passed, the memory of the princess and her snow-white horses faded. Michael began to concentrate solely on getting a roof on the new house before winter came.

"And then...one day...everything changed," I said quietly. I stopped once again and stared sightlessly at the floor. My memory of that day was so clear that I could almost feel the heat of the sun and the sweat trickling down my back, the sound of the axe echoing through the hot, still air as it dug deep into the logs.

"Morgan!"

Alice's impatience pulled me back to the present. "I'm sorry. I was thinking about the story."

"What changed?"

 _Everything._ Alice was staring at me, her green eyes wide and innocent. I knew she probably wouldn't understand the importance of what I was about to tell her, but I felt compelled to say it anyway.

"Sometimes, your life can change in an instant," I said quietly. "And all it takes is one small and insignificant thing."

She stared back at me, her confusion evidenced by the frown creasing her brow. I sat forward, focusing my attention of her face as if I could simply will her to understand.

"For example, one day I was perfectly content with my life the way it was, and the next day you came walking down the hallway of this hospital and you changed everything for me forever. Do you understand what I mean?"

She didn't answer, but I could see her struggling to grasp it. Understanding was just within her reach.

"And one day you were home with your family, playing with your toys and your puppy, and then the next day you were here, because of one event: your vision of the earthquake. Do you understand now?" I asked softly.

"Yes," she whispered. "I understand, Morgan." Tears shimmered in her eyes.

"The same thing happened to Michael," I continued, my voice hushed. "The day was unusually hot and he'd been working on the new house all morning. Splitting logs with an axe is very hard work, and doing it in the hot sun had made him sweaty and thirsty and tired. Around noon he decided to take a break and go for a swim in the cool stream that ran through the farm. He leaned his axe up against the house and started walking toward the woods.

"Michael had never taken a break in the middle of the day like that before. There was always too much work to be done. But that day, he did, and that one small thing, that one thing that he did differently that day, it changed everything."

"Is this story going to be sad?" she asked in a small, trembling voice, picking up on the serious tone of my voice.

"In some parts, yes," I answered honestly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I want to know what happened, even if it's sad." She hesitated and then asked, "Is Michael going to die?"

"No, he's not. I promise," I said, smiling reassuringly.

"Good." She smiled in relief. "Because I love Michael. He's so funny."

I wondered if she'd still love him after she heard the rest of the story.

"Michael wandered slowly through the woods toward a certain small clearing that was his particular favorite. The woods were thick around this clearing, making it very private. A cold stream ran straight through the middle, with a large, flat boulder hugging the bank—a perfect place to stretch out and dry in the sun after taking a swim. But when he approached the clearing, a woman was already there. She was sitting on the large boulder with her back to him, and all he could see was her hair, and that was so astonishing that he stood frozen in place unable to move or even utter a word."

"Her hair? What about her hair?" Alice asked.

"It was long, incredibly long, and dark like yours. It flowed down her back and even puddled on the rock around her. Michael thought it might possibly reach the ground if she stood. He watched her for a few moments before finally deciding to leave her be and let her have her privacy. When he started to back away from the clearing, she spoke to him. 'Don't go', she said. 'Come sit with me.'

"He hesitated, wondering what he should do. You see, in those days, like today, it was highly improper for a young lady to be alone with a man without a chaperone. Michael was very unsettled at the thought of staying, but his curiosity was burning inside him like a wildfire. So, he decided to stay for just a little while.

"He sat down on the rock beside her, careful to keep a proper distance between them. She didn't turn to look at him, so all he could see was the side of her face, which was partly covered by her hair, and her small hands which were clasped together in her lap. She was looking down, so he couldn't see her eyes, just her long black lashes brushing her cheek. But there was one strange thing he noticed, something so wondrous that it drove everything else out of his mind for the moment."

Alice had stopped eating and was staring intently at me, waiting for me to continue. I hesitated, choosing my next words with caution. From this point on, the story had to be told with extreme care.

"What was it?" she asked impatiently.

"Her skin," I answered. "It glistened in the sunlight like diamonds." Alice's eyes grew wide and an astonished smile spread over her face. "And when she moved her hand just the slightest, it was as if a rainbow was dancing in the air. Before he could ask her about it, she asked him his name. Her voice was low and soft, and smooth as honey and butter mixed together."

I could hear her voice as clearly as if she were standing beside me that very moment:

  
_"What is your name?" she asked, still not turning to look at me._

_"Michael," I said. I was surprised I could even remember it, considering how out of sorts I was at the moment._

_"Who is like God," she whispered._

_"What?"_

_"That's what your name means. Michael, who is like God." The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile._

_"What is **your** name?" I asked then._

_"Mariasha. It means 'perfect'." Then she turned to face me and I gasped aloud at what I saw._

_"I've been searching for you, Michael."_

 

I came back to the present and continued on before a frown could settle on Alice's brow. "He told her that his name was Michael and she told him that hers was Mariasha." I had to repeat it several times before Alice got the pronunciation correct.

"It's 'ah'. Mahr-ee-ah-shah," I said slowly. Just the sound of her name flowing off of my tongue sent shivers down my spine. I hadn't spoken it aloud for a very long time.

"Mahr-ee-ah-shah," she repeated slowly. "That's a pretty name."

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "She turned to face Michael and stunned him once again. He was finally able to see her entire face, and she was a great beauty indeed. But it was her eyes that caught his attention. They were like no other eyes he'd ever seen in his entire life. They were red, a brilliant red."

"Red?!" Alice gasped loudly. "Why were they red?"

"Michael asked her that very same thing, but she never answered him. She just laughed softly in response. So he decided to ask her something that perhaps she _would_ answer. 'What are you doing here? This is my father's property.'

"And that was when she told him she was a princess." I smiled, knowing Alice's reaction before it even came.

She laughed and clapped her hands together in joy. "Yay! A princess!" Then she covered her mouth and gasped. "Is she the one who was in the fancy carriage?"

"Very good, Alice. Yes, she was," I answered with a smile. "She told him that she had been born in Egypt, but had lived in many countries during her life. Her father had arranged for her to come to England to meet the prince in hopes that he would find her suitable enough to marry. She also told Michael, in a very sad voice, that she did not wish to marry the prince. Upon meeting him, she did not think him very nice and she certainly did not love him. The prince, on the other hand, found her to be quite to his liking. If he chose to marry her, she said sadly, she would have no choice or say in the matter.

"Michael listened attentively to every word she spoke, his eyes were strangely drawn to her face, her mouth and her brilliant red eyes. He spent several hours talking with her that afternoon, all thoughts of Libby and the work on the house forgotten. So enchanted was he with her that it was almost dinner time before he came to his senses.

"'I must get home for dinner,' he said apologetically. As he got up to leave, she asked him if he'd return tomorrow and talk to her. She seemed so lonely, and he was very sorry for the situation she found herself in with the prince, so he agreed. Tomorrow at noon, he would come and speak with her again.

"'Thank you,' she said softly. Before he could respond, she was gone."

"Gone?" Alice asked, frowning again. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Gone. One second she was there, and the next she was no longer there. Michael was astonished, also. It was like the air trembled and then she disappeared right before his very eyes." Alice's eyes were wide with wonder, and I could just imagine the thoughts tumbling around in her mind. _Let her think on that one for awhile!_

"He turned in circles looking for her, but she was not there. He rushed to the edge of the woods and ran around the clearing, searching, but she was truly gone.

"Later that night, as he lay awake in bed thinking, he began to wonder if it had all been just a dream. Perhaps he'd been overcome by the heat and imagined the entire thing. He decided, right before he drifted off to sleep, that he'd find out the truth of it tomorrow. If she was real, he'd find out why her skin shimmered and why her eyes were a strange red, and how she could disappear like that, in the blink of an eye. His curiosity burned like a hot flame in his chest. He could hardly wait to see her again."

I stopped the story at that point, because it was time for me to return to my duties. I figured Alice would beg me for more, but I wasn't prepared for the question she posed to me instead.

"What about Libby?" she asked, pouting.

"That's something that will have to wait until tomorrow," I scolded her gently. "We can't jump ahead in the story, now can we?"

"I guess not." She sighed. "But he needs to tell Libby about the princess." 

Would things have turned out differently if I had? Unfortunately, that was something I'd never know.


	20. Happily Ever After

**~ MORGAN ~**

When I arrived at work, Alice's room was sweltering from the oppressive heat of the day, and although pleasant for me, beads of sweat dotted her face; her shift was damp and stuck to her body. When I suggested dinner on the balcony, she immediately brightened and clapped her hands in excitement.

A slight cool breeze had swept in from the Gulf waters and occasionally lifted Alice's hair as it passed. The glow from the oil lamp in the center of the table bathed her face in muted light as she ate her dinner. She'd started pestering me to finish the story the moment I'd entered her room. Now that I had finally gotten her to start eating, I continued on with my tale.

"Did Michael go back to see Mariasha the next day?"

"Yes, he did. A little while before noon he stopped working on the house, same as the day before, and headed to the clearing. But when he arrived there it was empty; she wasn't waiting for him as he'd expected. Instead of leaving, like he probably should have, he decided to sit on the boulder for awhile and wait. He sat alone for quite some time, daydreaming and then becoming annoyed with himself for being there when he really should be home working. It was then that she suddenly appeared on the rock beside him. One minute she wasn't there and the next she was."

Alice's eyes widened again. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried in vain to figure that out. "How did she do that?"

"That's the first thing Michael asked her. 'How do you do that, Mariasha?' She didn't answer him. Instead she asked about _his_ health. He answered her questions and then tried to steer the conversation back to her. He asked her why her skin glistened in the sunlight and why her eyes were so red, but she answered each question with only a smile and silence. Finally, Michael gave up trying to get answers to his questions and decided instead to relax and just enjoy the afternoon with her, and enjoy it he did. They talked for several more hours that day, until once again Michael had to leave for dinner."

"Morgan," Alice interjected with a frown. "You're leaving a bunch of stuff out. What did they talk about?"

"Why, everything. Everything and all things in-between. You know that Michael was fascinated with faraway places anyway, so when she began to talk of her travels, he became so engrossed in her tales that he lost all track of time. He imagined himself in those places as she spoke of them. He wondered what it would be like to travel the world, to meet strange people, eat exotic foods and see the wondrous sights in each city.

"But before he left her for the evening, he was determined to get an answer to at least one of his burning questions. He tried a different one this time, one that he thought she wouldn't expect: 'Why did you want me to come back and talk to you today?' he asked her. She turned away from him as she spoke. She told him that she'd been looking for someone like him all of her life. Before he knew what was happening, she turned and kissed him."

Alice gasped in astonishment. "No! Michael can't do that! He didn't kiss her back, did he?"

I sighed softly, knowing that Alice was going to be disappointed at my answer. "Yes, he did."

"But what about Libby? He shouldn't be kissing another girl," she exclaimed. "He and Libby are getting married!"

"Michael wasn't thinking of Libby or the house or the wedding. He was only thinking of Mariasha and how beautiful she was," I said softly.

Alice was frowning unhappily. Her good will towards Michael had just lessened quite a bit, I imagined. I stopped the story for awhile at that point. Alice continued on with her eating in silence, her brows still pulled together in tight furrow. She didn't pester me to continue like I'd expected. She was obviously aggravated at the unexpected turn my tale had taken. I took advantage of her silence to think back on that day and what had really happened:

  
_"What do you mean, 'you've been searching for me'?"_

_She turned away from me and spoke softly. "Humanity is nothing but a jewelry box full of tasteless baubles—trinkets made out of paste that have lost their luster. What I've been searching for is the one precious stone that stands out from the rest."_ _She turned her eyes to me, not quite meeting my gaze. "A sparkling diamond that outshines them all with its sheer, raw beauty," she whispered._

_I felt a hot blush creep over my face. Was she referring to me?_ _"I'm just a farmer—plain as an old shoe. I'm certainly no sparkling diamond." I laughed softly in astonishment that she could even think such a thing._

_"Aah, but you are. You have no intimation of the attraction you hold for me." She touched a hand to my cheek; her fingers were delicate and cool. A chill raced down my spine even as the heat of the sun beat down on my back. The hairs stood up all over my body at her light touch._ _"Il suo cantante," she whispered. "My singer..."_

_Before I could ask what she meant, her cool lips touched mine and the world around me disappeared._

I came back to the present reluctantly. "Do you want me to continue?" I asked Alice hesitantly.

She shrugged. "I guess so."

"Alice," I said quietly. She stopped eating and turned her gaze to me, sensing the change in my tone of voice. Her green eyes were sad and clenched at my heart. "You must try not to be too disappointed in Michael," I continued softly. "He was only doing what his heart told him to do."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice but a whisper.

I smiled down at her. "Your heart talks to you. Did you not know that?"

"No," she answered, frowning.

"Well it does. No matter what your mind is telling you, you must always listen to your heart. It speaks the truth when no one else does."

She thought in silence for a few moments and then pouted in frustration. "I don't know what that means." 

I took her tiny chin in my fingers and raised her eyes to mine. "It means that Michael's _mind_ was telling him that he was engaged to Libby and he shouldn't be kissing someone else, but his _heart_ was telling him something totally different. His heart was telling him that Mariasha was his true love, his soul mate."

"What's a soul mate?" she asked, her curiosity piqued at this new combination of words.

"A soul mate is a person who completes you," I said simply. Her face was awash in confusion.

"Think of it this way. Imagine that when you're born you look perfectly normal on the outside. You have two arms, two legs, two eyes and so on. You look like you're supposed to look to everyone who sees you. But on the inside...in here—" I pointed to my chest, right above my heart. "—you only have half of your heart. The other half is missing. No one else can tell that but you, because it's hidden from the world. But when you meet the right person—your soul mate—they become the other half of your heart, and then you're complete on the _inside_ as well the outside. That's when a person is truly happy. Do you understand?"

"I think so," she murmured. "So, Mariasha is Michael's soul mate?"

"Yes, she is. And even though Michael knew it was going to hurt Libby terribly, he had to listen to what his heart was telling him," I finished softly.

"Will I have a soul mate, too?"

"Of course you will. Everyone has a soul mate; it's just a matter of finding them. Sometimes you have to go through a lot and search for a long time before you find that special person." I gently stroked her hair. "But I promise you, you _will_ find someone, Alice."

A tear that had been clinging desperately to her eyelid finally broke free and trickled down her cheek. A frown soon followed it. "Fairy tales are supposed to end happily ever after." 

"This one does, just not exactly the way you thought it would." _Just like life._ "So, do you want to know how it all ended?"

She took a deep breath and nodded, her food all but forgotten.

"Michael met Mariasha in the clearing every day for the next month. During this time, he still went to visit Libby one evening each week, but he never mentioned the beautiful princess to her. He was still a bit confused about what he should do, actually. So he held off telling Libby anything about her.

"Then one afternoon, when Michael visited Mariasha again, he immediately knew something was wrong. Her shoulders drooped and her red eyes were filled with sadness. When he asked her about it, she told him that the prince had asked her to marry him. He had fallen madly in love with her and was determined to make her his wife. She cried tearless sobs against Michael's chest, exclaiming that she didn't love him and didn't want to marry him. Michael felt helpless and didn't know what to say. He was also surprised to find himself extremely jealous of the prince. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he knew one thing for certain: Mariasha was _not_ going to marry the prince. He realized at that very moment that he was deeply in love with her himself, and he was not going to stand by and watch her marry another man.

"That was when she asked him a question that totally shocked him," I said quietly. Alice's eyes were glued to my face, her body leaned forward in anticipation. "She said, 'Michael, if I asked you to run away with me, would you?'"

Alice gasped softly.

"Michael didn't even have to think about his answer. He immediately told her 'yes', but he had one condition. He told Mariasha that he would leave with her if, and only if, she finally answered all his questions about her."

"Did she? Did he find out how she could appear and disappear like that? Why her eyes were red?" Alice asked anxiously.

"Yes. She answered all of his questions that day, and although Michael was quite thoroughly shocked at her answers, it didn't change how he felt about her."

"What did she say?"

Mariasha's answers to me that day had been beyond the realm of my understanding, and I had been a young man of seventeen who had thought of himself as halfway educated. Trying to explain it to a six-year-old child? Almost impossible unless it was told, once again, as a fantasy—something that couldn't possibly happen in the real world.

"She told him she wasn't like him, that she wasn't...human." Alice's mouth dropped open in shock. "And honestly, Michael had suspected as much. Remember how he used to gaze up at the stars at night and wonder if other people lived there?" Alice nodded silently. "Well, now he knew it was true. Mariasha was from one of those stars—a princess from another world.

"That was why she had red eyes, and her skin glistened, and she could disappear and reappear in an instant. Once Michael got over the shock of her answer, he was immensely curious and bombarded her with even more questions. 'Where is your world? What is it like? Can I go there with you?'

"She patiently answered every one of them. Her world was far away from his, it turned out, and very different. Where she lived, everyone's skin glistened and they all had red eyes. Brown, green and blue eyes looked strange to her. He learned that she could run fast—faster than a human's eye could see. That was how she seemed to vanish right before his eyes. She was immensely strong. Michael had scoffed at that, but she quickly set him straight. As small as she was, she grabbed a young tree nearby, ripped it from the ground and hurled it through the air and off into the forest. Michael was dumbfounded, to say the least."

Alice's mouth was agape with awe. Her eyes sparkled in fascination, despite herself.

"Once Michael felt satisfied that all his questions had been answered, he took her hand in his, looked her in the eyes and told her he would go with her wherever she wished. It didn't matter to him where they went or what they spent their years together doing. All he knew was that he had to be with her forever," I finished softly.

"Did she ever take Michael to visit her world?"

I smiled at the innocence of her question. I supposed to her it would seem such a simple thing: get on a horse, or ride in carriage for a few hours in your imagination, and then find yourself in another world where everything was wondrous and strange.

"Yes, she did. For many years after that, Michael begged her to take him to her world. He was so curious about it. He wanted to see it for himself and experience all the things she'd told him about it.  One day, she finally agreed. It was a long journey, though. It took him three days, and it was extremely painful." I shuddered inwardly at the memory of those days of burning heat and scorching pain.

"It hurt? Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"Because Michael was human, and humans were not meant to be a part of her world. It hurt his body terribly to travel there, but he did it anyway, for Mariasha. And when he finally arrived, he was overjoyed. So much so, that he stayed there with her forever, and never returned to his own world. They lived together, happily ever after, for the rest of their days."

She smiled and then frowned. "But what about Libby and his mommy and daddy?"

"He left two letters behind—one for Libby and one for his parents—explaining why he had left so abruptly," I answered. "I imagine Libby was very hurt and then, most likely, extremely angry at him for what he'd done. And his parents? He hoped they would carry on without him. Perhaps hire someone to take care of the farm, or move to the village."

"Did Mariasha and Michael have lots of babies?" she asked as a small grin blossomed on her lips.

"No. Mariasha couldn't have children." Alice's face fell instantly, but I smiled down at her. "Don't be sad about it. They were so happy with each other that they never even gave it a thought. Michael and Asha—that became his nickname for her—they had everything that they needed in each other. And that, my dear Alice, is finally the end. It's time for me to go back to work and for _you_ to go back to your room." I smiled and rifled her hair.

As we walked through the halls together I bid a silent farewell to that part of my life. Everyone in my memories of that time—my parents and Libby—were long dead and moldering in their graves. I sometimes wondered if she ever found a husband to love her and give her children. Were my parents able to carry on without me?

Contrary to what I'd told Alice, I hadn't left any letters behind. I'd just left that very day and had never looked back. I wondered if any of them were able to forgive me for leaving without so much as a goodbye. But most of all, I wondered if my name had been a bitter taste on their tongues as they'd died.

 

* * *

  
I deposited Alice back in her room and watched her silently from the doorway as she commenced playing with her paper dolls.

 _Il suo cantante._ I now understood the pull Mariasha felt toward me that day. Later, when she'd tried to explain it to me, I had nodded in what I had thought at the time to be complete understanding. But I had been only a naive human then, with a severely limited ability to comprehend vampire emotions. Only now, since Alice had come into my life, did I completely understand the magnetic pull of a singer. The depth of emotion their presence brought was almost overwhelming in its intensity. Mariasha could have no more walked away from me that day than I could walk away from Alice now.

I stepped out into the hallway and leaned against the wall. I stared sightlessly at the floor as the memories of that last day in England with Asha once again resurfaced:

  
_"Vampire?!" My mouth was finally able to form a word, even though the word that came out of it was unbelievable, inconceivable._

_"Yes. I am a vampire, but I'm not going to hurt you, I promise you that." She was speaking softly, her hand reaching out to me in supplication._

_"How did you end up here? Why did you pick me as the object of your affections?" I asked, partly curious, partly angry, but mostly afraid._

_"I've been wandering the world for a long time. I was unhappy with my life the way it was. I started searching for something, anything, that would bring some meaning to it. It was purely by accident that I found you. There was nothing sinister involved, I assure you. I was passing through this area and your... **scent**...became known to me. It was overpowering in it's attraction. I was uncontrollably drawn to you because of it, and I was also puzzled. Why were you so alluring to me?_

_"Then I remembered hearing vampires speak in awed whispers about 'singers' or humans whose blood called to them more powerfully than any other. I realized then that you were my singer. In reality that should have meant your instant death—vampires rarely have the control to resist killing their singers—but I didn't want to kill you. I'm trying to live a different life now, and to give in to that temptation would have only meant a return to the agony of my old existence. So I resisted and yearned to know you for who you are, not because of the lure of your blood."_

_I eyed her warily across the distance between us. She seemed so harmless, but as she had just demonstrated to me she was strong beyond all imagination, and also quick. Was she telling the truth? Did she mean me no harm?_ _"What do you want from me?"_

_"Your companionship. That is all," she answered softly._

_"You don't mean to kill me eventually?" I asked incredulously._

_"No," she argued softly, stepping closer now. "I love you, Michael. I could never harm you. You must believe that. And I believe you feel the same way. At least, you did before you knew what I was. Does everything I just told you really change what your heart is telling you?"_

_We stared at each other in silence for a long time. Before she had revealed the astonishing truth of what she was, I had, for a fact, known that I was deeply in love with her. Had that changed? I extended my hand to her and waited expectantly for her to take it. When her cool fingers touched my palm, I grasped them and tugged her toward me._ _When her body was touching mine, I raised her chin and kissed her—a long, lingering, cool kiss. The world once again disappeared, as it had before when her lips touched mine. My body sang with joy every time it came into contact with hers, be it a touch of her hand, a brush of her fingers, or the pressure of her lips on mine. When our mouths parted, there was no doubt left in my mind about my feelings._ _No matter what she was, I loved her. I couldn't just walk away from her and never think of her again. If I did walk away, I knew the memory of her face and her touch would haunt me the rest of my days._

_I started to speak, but she lay two fingers across my lips to stop me._

_"I must ask you something." She turned her back to me and walked off several feet. I made to follow her, but she stopped me with a downward slash of her arm._ _"No!" she cried softly. "You must stay where you are and not look at me when you answer!"_

_"All right," I murmured. "Ask."_

_"Will you leave with me right now? And this means leaving your family and friends, and never seeing them again. Please take your time and answer carefully, Michael, and do not attempt to look at me until you do."_

_I stared at her back, her black hair the only thing of her I could see. Why couldn't I look at her? I put aside my curiosity for the moment to consider her question, and it was a serious one. Could I just up and leave my family and Libby, and start a new life with her?_

_I thought back over the past month to our hours and hours of conversations. During all those afternoons it had been as if time had stood still. I'd been enraptured by her lifestyle, enchanted with her beauty, and blindly in love with the woman who dwelled in her heart. She was right, in that nothing she had told me in the past hour had changed that. I wanted this more than I'd ever wanted anything in my short life._

_"Yes," I answered, my voice steady and strong. "I'll leave with you."_

_She slowly turned around. Her scarlet eyes met mine, and suddenly she was in my arms. I never even saw her move! She was laughing, and what a joyous sound it was! I found myself laughing with her, kissing her deeply and holding onto her tightly. This had to be what love really felt like._

_"Oh Michael," she breathed against my lips. "You've made me so happy!" She took my face in her hands. "I promise, you will never regret your decision." She led me by the hand to the boulder. We sat together in silence, our fingers intertwined, and stared at the rushing water before us. Then another question occurred to me._

_"Why couldn't I look at you before I answered?"_

_"Michael." She chuckled softly. "Is there no end to your questions?"_

_I laughed shortly. "No, and you might as well get used to it. My curiosity is insatiable."_

_"Every vampire has a gift. Mine dwells in my eyes. I am able to influence people by gazing directly into their eyes. I wanted an honest answer from you. I knew if I allowed you to look at me, I'd be tempted to influence your decision, so great was my desire for you to say yes."_

_An uneasiness swept through me. "Have you been influencing me from the very beginning?"_

_"No. I swear to you. If you think back on our time together, did I ever meet your gaze directly?"_

_No. She never had. Her eyes always had seem to rest somewhere just beneath mine, on my cheek or above my forehead, but never directly. I was relieved to know that what I had felt during the past month were my true feelings._ _"I believe you," I answered as I tightly squeezed her hand._

_She smiled and sighed expansively, bringing my hand to her cool lips and kissing it. "So, my curious Michael, where do you want to go first?"_

_I didn't even need to think about it._ _"Egypt. I want to see the pyramids."_

_She stood and pulled me up with her, her smile as bright as the glistening of her skin. "Oh, my beautiful Michael, you are going to simply love Egypt!"_

"Don't you have something more important to do than hold up the wall, smiling like a brainless idiot?"

Mrs. Filkins' irritating voice and piercing stare brought me back into the present like a dash of ice water to the face. I shot her a quick, cold glance, annoyed at her for interrupting some of the sweetest memories of my entire existence. I turned to walk away, but not before reminding myself that one day Mrs. Filkins and I were going to become intimately acquainted.

And nothing was more intimate between two people than death.


	21. Gifts

**~ MORGAN ~**

The smell assaulted my senses as soon as I walked in my front door. I swept the room for the source, but all I saw was Celine, smiling like the Cheshire cat. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Who is here?"

A low, seductive chuckle slid from her throat as she approached me. "I have a gift for you," she said. "My way of saying 'thank you' for letting me stay." She drew near to me until our bodies almost touched. Her face was mere inches from mine, and the scent emanating from her sent my senses to reeling.

"Where have you been?" I asked suspiciously.

She ran a lone finger down the side of my face, my chin, my neck and then inside the top of my shirt along my collarbone. "I've had a simply enjoyable night, Michael." She sighed as her finger continued it's slow progress down the front of my shirt. "I met the most satisfying man I've encountered in a long, long, while. Very... _energetic._ " A sly self-satisfied smile played across her lips and seduction danced in her eyes.

"Where is he?" I asked, thinking he was, perhaps, being held captive in my small, empty bedroom.

She sighed expansively, and pouted. "You know how fragile humans are. I got a little rough and accidentally killed him."  She wrapped an arm around my neck and brushed her body up next to me. The smell of her hair, thick with the strange man's scent, excited me against my will. "You should have been there. He was so mouthwatering and sweet. You would have loved him. We could have had so much fun, the three of us, but since you're so boring now, I brought him to you."  Her finger had made it down to the top of my trousers. I moaned softly as it moved lower and brushed lightly across me. "I didn't cleanse my body. I left it all for you to enjoy. I'm covered with his scent and his sweat. It's on my skin, in my hair, my mouth. Taste him."

Her mouth hovered near mine. She was right. Whoever he'd been, he was mouthwatering. Just the lingering scent of him in her hair was arousing the blood lust in me. Briefly, I wondered if he was an innocent, but it wouldn't have mattered to Celine one way or the other.

"Taste him." She pressed her lips lightly to mine. I tasted him on her mouth, salty and slightly smoky, along with assorted other unidentifiable flavors.

Maybe it was the loneliness of my existence now, or the memories of Mariasha that haunted me. Whatever the reason, I gave in to my desires and relaxed into Celine's embrace. My arms snaked around her, crushing her to my body as I devoured her mouth, kissing, tasting, and probing with my tongue. I moaned softly as my lips slid along her jaw, her cheeks, up to her forehead, and then down her neck. The taste of him burned on my tongue, the smell of him saturated her hair and filled my lungs, arousing my lust.

"That's right, Michael," she whispered breathlessly in my ear as my tongue licked at her neck. "Enjoy it. You deny yourself too much."

I pulled away from her, my breathing harsh and heavy from the seductive scents on her skin. "Is this a favorite dress?"

She chuckled. "No. Why?"

I grasped the collar of it in my fist and ripped downward, splitting it down the middle until it dropped from her body in shreds. She quirked an eyebrow at me and then smiled devilishly. "Now _that's_ the Michael I used to know."

She quickly stripped me of my clothes and drew me down onto the floor with her. As Celine wrapped her legs around my body, I entered her and then closed my eyes and left Biloxi. Gone were the four walls of my parlor, replaced by the hot, dry winds of Egypt blowing across my bare body. It was Asha, not Celine, caught up in my embrace. It was dark, silky hair, not blond, that curled around the fingers of my clenched fist, and it was Asha's soft, seductive voice that whispered now in my ear: 

  
_"You're such a beautiful man, Michael. My exotic English jomo." She laughed breathlessly, her nails digging into my arms._

_I pulled my face up out of her hair long enough to ask, "Jomo? What does that mean?"_

_"It's Kikuyu and it means 'flaming spear'" She moaned and arched her hips up against mine, sending me deeper inside of her body._

_I gasped and then laughed. "Flaming spear? Is that what I feel like to you?"_

_"That's exactly what you feel like, my human lover—a hot, flaming spear consuming everything in its path." We both laughed as the pleasure continued to build._

  
"Michael," Celine purred in my ear, jerking me back to present. "Stop being so gentle. You know how I like it, how we _both_ like it."

Then Asha's voice whispered in my head once again:

  
_"Do whatever you want with my body, Michael. You can't hurt me. Let all the love you feel for me pour out of you. Do whatever you want..."_

  
I moaned softly at the memory of that night with Asha. We had made love for the first time in the looming shadows of the Great Pyramids. Her small body had writhed underneath mine, her cool limbs wrapped tightly around me. I'd given everything to her that night—my heart, my soul, and my body, and I had given them to her with every ounce of human strength I had possessed.

My strength had increased exponentially since that first night I'd lain with Asha. I unleashed it all now upon Celine's body with a force that would have torn a fragile human woman to pieces. Celine liked violent sex, thrived on it, as I once did after I was changed.

  
_"There's such power in you now, Michael." Asha moaned loudly underneath me; her fingers clawed through my hair. "I feel it radiating from your body like the heat from a summer sun." Her warm lips grazed my ear as she whispered and urged me on. "Give free reign to your desires, my beautiful vampire lover."_

  
"Oh, Michael," Celine moaned next to my ear, pulling my mouth roughly onto hers. The memories dissolved like smoke in the wind as her nails raked down my back. "No man has ever been able to take your place," she gasped breathlessly. "No man ever will."

I groaned and stopped all movement inside of her. I fought my body's overwhelming need for completion, as I hovered above her, motionless.

"Do you want my bite?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I whispered hoarsely.

Celine's power lay in her venom, and its ability to prolong sexual pleasure. It was highly addictive to humans and vampires alike. Only I had proved to be immune to its power, but that didn't mean I didn't enjoy it. I resumed my pounding rhythm, pulling her head against my chest. She let her teeth hover over a spot just above my nipple—the same place she'd used over and over again in the past. A small circular scar would forever mar my skin where her venom had flowed repeatedly into my body.

I felt the pressure building; the end was so close for me. I closed my eyes and pushed her face against my chest. I felt a small, sharp pain as her teeth broke the skin, and a brief burning sensation, but all of that trivial discomfort completely disappeared as her venom started to flow into my veins. The explosion of sexual pleasure that followed was indescribable. The force of it ripped hoarse screams from my throat. All manner of restraint completely abandoned me. Celine's own screams of pleasure, although muffled against my skin, echoed loudly off the walls of the quiet room. But it became _Asha's_ voice that crashed through my mind and echoed off the walls, her small body shuddering and writhing in my arms, her fingernails clawing feverishly down my arms.

The orgasm moved through me in intense waves, and would continue to do so until Celine pulled away. But a person's body, human or vampire, can only take so much pleasure before it crosses over the line to pain. Celine knew exactly how much I could stand. She pulled away from my chest and lay her head back down on the floor. I continued to moan softly as the strength of the orgasm gradually lessened and then faded. But Asha wasn't gone. Her spirit lingered with me as the nerve endings in my body gradually quieted. Unbidden memories of her suddenly flooded my mind, memories that carried with them pain, not pleasure:

  
_Something was wrong. I sensed it before I even reached our cottage. Senses on alert, I crept to a window, and peeked through a part in the curtains. A confusing scene lay before my eyes._ _Asha was kneeling on the floor in front of a man, a vampire with dark hair. Two larger vampires stood on either side of him. Her head was bowed in supplication. She was pleading softly with the man to spare her life._

_'I've changed, Aro. I no longer live that life. Please have mercy.'_

_"It's too late my lovely Mariasha. We've given you too many warnings and too many chances," the man named Aro said solemnly._

_Then Asha whispered softly under her breath, almost too softly to be heard._ _'I love you, Michael. Run!"_

 _And I did, but not before I watched the vampire behead her with his bare hands, and then tear her body to pieces._ _I ran as soon as the fire began to consume our home. I had no time to pause and watch it burn away our memories._ _My love was gone...dead._

_A rage was born inside of me that night—a rage strong and deep. It fueled my body with the speed to get away, and then it replaced speed with hate and vengeance and a lust for blood that had seen no equal in centuries._

 

"Oh, that was amazing," Celine purred, her soft feline voice jerking me back to the present.

The memories faded, leaving pain in place of pleasure, fury in place of contentment. What in the hell had I just done?! The last thing I wanted was to get involved with Celine again. She'd only pull me back down into the bloody hell I'd fought so hard to get out of these past decades. I rolled off of her. The lingering effects of her venom were almost gone. I wanted nothing more now than to get as far away from her as I could. I quickly stood and searched for my trousers. With my back to her, I angrily jerked them from the floor and slid them on. I heard her get up and felt her presence just behind me. I finished fastening my trousers and turned to face her.

"Your bite." She leaned in and ran her tongue over the still oozing wound to seal it. I stood motionless and let her indulge herself in this one last ritual of our sex act. "Who's Asha?" she asked, eyeing me intently as she backed away.

Had I said her name aloud? I must have. I gave her a cold, silent stare in return.

"In all the time we were together you never mentioned an Asha. Is she someone new?"

"That's none of your business," I said coldly, as I shrugged my shirt on and buttoned it.

Her eyes narrowed, darkening with anger. "Why are you being such a bastard?"

The disgust I felt at myself for what I'd just done rushed to the surface. "I didn't ask you to come here! You thrust yourself back into my life without invitation!"

"We used to have such a good relationship. We loved each other."

I didn't want to hear the softness in her voice, and I especially didn't want to reminisce about old times, especially with the memories of Asha so fresh in my mind. "We didn't have a relationship. We killed together. We fucked together. And sometimes we combined the two, but that's all it was. I didn't love you, Celine. I still don't."

"You son-of-a-bitch!"

I staggered from the sheer force of her blow across my cheek, but I righted myself quickly and glared at her. "And I left because you tried to control me with your power. As much as I loved the pleasure of your bite, I refused to let you control me with it, and you're not going to control me with it now. Nobody controls me, Celine!"

"I'm not trying to control you with it!" she shouted.

"You control _every_ man with it—vampire _and_ human—and you can't stand the fact that I'm immune to it!" I laughed harshly. "But I grew bored with your attempts. Your manipulative nature is very unattractive." I withdrew across the room, putting distance between us.

She glared angrily at me, then stalked into the empty bedroom. She emerged fully dressed, and sat slowly down on the sofa, her scarlet eyes boring into mine, even from across the room. "Are you hunting tonight?" she asked stonily.

"Yes, before I go to work. I'm going north then east. Which means you go south and west. Stay the hell away from me and don't hunt in Biloxi!"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to be anywhere near you."

"And don't bring me anymore gifts," I snarled.

We spent yet another day eyeing each other suspiciously across the room.

 

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

"Where's Morgan?" I asked Mrs. Filkins as she started to leave.

"Alice, I swear! Can you not remember even the simplest things? He's going to be late this evening. His doctor's appointment."

"Oh, I forgot. Sorry, Mrs. Filkins."

"And he thinks you're so intelligent," she said, shaking her head. "My granddaughters don't have to be told things ten times. _They_ pay attention when adults speak."

I didn't say anything. When Mrs. Filkins talked about her granddaughters, I'd learned to just listen. I just wanted her to leave so I could play until Morgan got here. After she left, I grabbed my box with the doll and crawled underneath my bed. I wasn't supposed to, and I would get in big trouble if Mrs. Filkins caught me, but she wouldn't be back for a long time.

I reached up and pulled down on the sheet until it almost reached the floor. I was in my secret cave now where no one could see me. I giggled to myself as I imagined all the nurses hunting for me, especially Mrs. Filkins, and not having any idea that I was right there, underneath the bed all along. That would be so fun! Listening to them all calling my name, worrying over what happened to me, none of them smart enough to find me. Then Morgan would find me. He'd lift up the sheet and I'd grin up at him and giggle. The nurses would be mad, but Morgan wouldn't. _I don't think._

I started playing with my doll, dressing her and taking her out for a walk in the park. Then I undressed her and got her dressed again for a party. I was trying to decide on which hat would be best when I heard footsteps in my room.  Then I saw the most beautiful pair of shoes I'd ever seen stop just beside my bed. All I could see were the bottoms of them. They were white. No, not white, but almost, sort of like my mommy's coffee when she put lots of milk in it. And they were lace ups, too. I wondered if they were boots or just shoes. I couldn't tell because the sheet was blocking the rest of them. The toes were pointed and the heel was curvy. Mommy had some shoes almost like them, but these were a lot nicer. Just as I was starting to wonder who was standing in my room beside my bed, the sheet lifted up.

"Hello? Is there someone down there?"

I'd never heard a voice like that. It sounded like music, like the wind chimes mommy had hanging on the front porch. I poked my head out and looked up to see the most beautiful dress to go with the shoes.

"Come out from under that bed, why don't you?" the woman said softly.

I crawled out from underneath the bed and hoisted myself up onto my mattress. I sat, legs dangling off the side, and stared up at the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life. Her dress was the prettiest blue, with ruffles around the neck and down the front, that matched the color of her shoes. Her waist was so tiny that she had to be wearing a corset. The sleeves were long and there were ruffles at her wrists. Layers of ruffles made up the skirt. It all stopped just above her shoes. The dress was beautiful. _She_ was beautiful. She was staring back at me and smiling. Her teeth were white and perfect, and her eyes were... _red!_ "You're a princess," I whispered. _Just like the one in Morgan's story!_

She laughed. "Hardly. But I appreciate the sentiment. What is your name?"

"Alice."

I couldn't stop staring at her. Her skin was creamy like mommy's, but whiter. I could tell she never got out in the sun. Young ladies didn't go out in the sun. She was a young lady.

She chuckled and muttered softly under her breath. "What a relief to know he's not yet sunk to using children."

I didn't understand, so I just sat and stared at her. Her hair was long and blond; she'd pulled it up in the back, but some of it still hung loose. She was so beautiful. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Celeste. That perfume you're wearing is simply breathtaking. May I?"

She took my wrist in her gloved hand and waited for me to answer. I nodded. She raised my wrist to her face and smelled it. Her eyes closed as she sighed. "Lovely. What brand is it?"

I giggled. "I don't wear perfume. It's just the way I smell. Morgan says I smell good, too."

"I'll bet he does," she murmured.

Her red eyes were beautiful. _No wonder Michael fell in love with Asha._

"We have a mutual acquaintance, it seems," she said, letting go of my wrist.

I didn't understand what she meant.

"Sorry." She chuckled. "I don't talk with children very often. I meant we both know the same person: Morgan."

"You know Morgan?" I asked excitedly.

"Yes, we're very good friends. I haven't seen him in quite awhile, though. I'm in town for a visit and I wanted to surprise him."

"Morgan's my friend."

"Mmmm. I'm sure he is," she said softly, smiling. "Can we be friends, also?"

"Yes!" I clapped my hands and squealed. I giggled and covered my mouth. I didn't want Mrs. Filkins to hear me and come back to my room too soon.

"Good. Then I need you to do something for me," she said, her smile gone, and her voice serious.

"What?"

"I need you to keep a secret for me. Can you do that?"

"Ooh, I love secrets," I whispered.

"Don't tell anyone I was here, especially Morgan. If he knows, it'll ruin the surprise. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes. I promise. I won't tell Morgan. Will you come visit me and play dolls with me? I have lots of pretty clothes and shoes and hats for my dolly to wear, and I have paper dolls, too."

"Of course. I would love to spend more time with you. A friend of Morgan's is a friend of mine."

"We can play now. My doll is under the bed."

"Aww, I'm sorry Alice. I can't stay very long today, but we'll meet again... _soon_. But until then, I have a gift for you." She rummaged in the small purse she was carrying, which matched her dress, and finally pulled out something little that I couldn't see. "Hold out your hand," she said, smiling.

She dropped a small stone into my hand. It was green with red spots on it. I'd never seen a rock like it before. "What is it?"

"It's real name is heliotrope, but it's commonly called a bloodstone. See the red dots? Those are supposed to represent Jesus' blood as he hung on the cross. Do you believe in Jesus?" Her eyes were watching me strangely. This felt scary all of a sudden.

"Yes," I said quietly. "I used to go to Sunday school."

Then she smiled. "Good." She closed her purse and smiled. "May I have one last smell of that lovely perfume of yours?" she asked softly.

"Yes." I giggled and stuck my wrist up for her to take.

She smelled it and sighed again. "Morgan, you bad, bad boy," she whispered, so soft I almost didn't hear it. I didn't understand what she meant. Morgan was nice, not bad. "Remember our secret. Don't tell Morgan I was here. And hide that stone. If he sees it, he'll know I gave it to you. It's my favorite gem."

"I promise I won't tell and I'll hide it—" I whispered and then smiled. "— _if_ you come back and play with me."

"Oh, I'll be back, don't you worry about that. I'll be back very soon."

Then she was gone, just like Asha. She was there one minute and then she wasn't! I bounced on my bed, giggling. I had a new friend and she was a princess! And she was a secret friend, too. 

I looked down at the stone in my hand. It was shiny and smooth. The red dots were pretty, but I didn't think they looked like blood. I crawled back underneath the bed and hid the stone in the corner of my doll's box, under the clothes and shoes. Morgan would never find it. He never looked at any of my doll stuff. Maybe I would show it to Mary Grace when she got back.

After I hid the rock I decided I was tired of playing with my doll; I wanted to draw and color. I crawled out from under the bed and got my crayons and paper out of the cabinet drawer. I sat on my bed until Morgan came, drawing and coloring pictures of princesses with red eyes.

 


	22. The Murder of Mariasha: a Short Story From the Life of Morgan Grant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an outtake that provides some of Morgan's personal history. My purpose in writing it is to show readers the evolution of Michael's character from an innocent farm boy of seventeen to a vicious vampire killer with absolutely no conscience. A single event was responsible for this drastic transformation: Asha's murder.
> 
> Morgan Grant was born Michael Golland in a small village in England in the year 1085. He met Mariasha in the summer of 1102 when he was seventeen years old. He left England with her late in the summer and spent four human years traveling the world with her. After much pleading on his part, she finally changed him in 1106 at the age of 21.
> 
> During his newborn year, Michael and Asha, along with her best friend Rhodes, decided to settle down in the countryside on the outskirts of Paris. There, they patiently guided Michael through the perilous first year of his transformation. They taught him to control his thirst and reign in the violent tendencies inherent in all newborns so that he could eventually blend in unnoticed with the human populace. Their efforts, for the most part, were successful. By his second year he was hunting alone, confident in his ability to control his baser instincts. And except for one unfortunate mishap, all went well. The couple, with their closest friend by their side, had two wonderfully happy years together as vampires until Asha's past finally caught up with her...

_**The outskirts of Paris - Fall 1108** _

  
"I love you, Michael. _Run!!"_  
  
I raced through the woods, my body fueled by shock, fear and a growing fury. In a matter of seconds, the fire and smoke of our cottage had disappeared behind me. The sharp points of the nearly bare tree limbs plucked at my coat as I ran. My feet carried me swiftly through the underbrush, barely disturbing the blanket of freshly-fallen autumn leaves covering the ground. I was running away from the burned-out ruins of my life and running to the only place I knew to go: Rhodes. I pounded furiously at her front door; the thick wood shuddered under the force of my blows. Abruptly the doors swung inward and Rhodes was staring up at me in shock.

"What's wrong?" she gasped.

"Asha is..." I stopped and stood frozen in place.

"What? What about Asha?"

Rhodes tugged on my arm and pulled me out of the open doorway and into her small parlor. She pushed the heavy door shut and focused her attention on my face, waiting. I couldn't say it. My mind was screaming it, but I couldn't form the word in my throat.

"Michael!! _What is it?_ "

Rhodes was frantic now. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was seeing written on my face as I struggled to speak a simple four-letter word. After an agonizingly long time of waiting for me to give voice to the horror I'd just witnessed, she finally placed her hands gently on my chest and stared intently up at me. "Tell me. _Now."_

And because Rhodes' power was strong, the truth spilled out of me. "She's...she's... dead." I finally choked the word out. "He murdered her."

"Oh my God." Rhodes moaned and sunk down onto the nearest chair. "Oh my dearest God," she whispered desperately. "No."

I crossed the room to the fireplace and sat down stiffly in a chair. I stared at the flames and listened with surprising detachment to Rhodes' soft moans of grief. I'd just told her that her best friend was dead, yet her pain had no effect on me. I was numb, I realized, and with that realization came indifference. Underneath it all was a slow, simmering fury. I could feel it churning inside of me like water slowing coming to a boil under a hot flame.

She rose and came to sit in the chair beside me. "Tell me what happened." 

I felt her eyes on my face, but I kept my gaze focused on the flames. In a flat, emotionless voice, I related the events back to her:

"I came back from hunting and as I approached the cottage, I heard voices. The shutters were slightly ajar, just enough to see inside the room. Asha was on her knees in front of a dark-haired vampire. She was pleading with him for mercy. She whispered to me to run just before she died. He beheaded her. The others tore off her arms. I didn't see the rest, but I felt the heat of fire at my back as I fled. They burned our cottage and Asha's body with it."

The popping logs burning in the small fireplace was the only sound in the room for a very long time. I relived the horrific scene over and over again in my mind, while Rhodes was envisioning it in hers for the very first time. "Why would he do that?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She sighed and then explained. After she was finished, I wished I'd never asked. Her answer left a burden on my shoulders that would weigh me down for centuries to come.

"Asha always liked human men. She sought them out, fell in love with them, and of course, they all eventually found out what she was. She either told them herself, or they guessed. Remember, we aren't allowed to reveal our true natures to humans. We're to live in the shadows, on the fringes of human society, only mingling with them to feed. We certainly aren't supposed to fall in love with them, intertwine our lives with theirs, or cohabitate with them. Asha had been warned many times by the Volturi that she was in violation of our most basic law." She sighed in frustration. "She wasn't good at following rules."

That last sentence made me smile sadly. _Neither am I._

"When she met you, I tried to reason with her. What she was doing was dangerous. I knew Aro's patience wouldn't last very much longer."

His name caught my attention. "Aro?" I asked sharply. "Is he the one who killed her?"

"Most likely. He fits your description," she answered. "But she persisted in her attempts to win your love. She confided to me that you were her singer, and insisted that walking away from you would be impossible. I gave up. Once Asha set her mind to something, she was very persistent."

 _As am I._ "It's my fault she's dead." 

That was the truth of it. If I had not become part of her life, she'd be alive now. If I had refused her that day in England and had just walked away from her, she'd still be here, laughing and enjoying life with her friend.

"No," Rhodes said sadly. "You must not think that. It was Asha's decision to involve you in her life. You had no knowledge of any of this, and you certainly have no responsibility in what's happened."

I heard her words, but I dismissed them. I was the cause of Asha's death, but I wasn't alone in the deed. I had company. "Tell me about Aro and the Volturi."

I knew very little, only that they were our governing body. Asha and Rhodes had been negligent in that area. I realized now that I'd been purposely kept ignorant of anything unpleasant in this new life I had chosen. I felt a small measure of bitterness and anger at that realization. I listened attentively as she described the Volturi. She told me of Aro and his power, and of his penchant for collecting vampires with especially powerful or unusual gifts. She explained their history and their role in our society. It didn't escape my attention that there was no awe in her voice. She didn't have to speak it for me to understand that she held no respect for the body or the man who led it. She told me the names of Aro's inner circle, detailing their powers and their personal histories—all useful information that I filed away for future reference.

"Are they the only governing body? Is their power unchallenged?"

"Yes. No one has ever possessed enough power, or _courage_ for that matter, to challenge them."

 _Is that so?_   I filed that bit of information away as well.

"Michael—" She started to speak and then stopped.

I merely waited. I found myself not caring whether she continued or not. My mind was very slowly leaving this room, like the grains of sand dropping through an hourglass. Each moment that passed moved me farther and farther away from the present.

"I want you to know that you were different."

I listened silently as she spoke of Asha's love for me. She talked of our bond, not only mine and Asha's, but also hers. The three of us, as close as any beings can be, knowing each other's emotions as well as we knew our own. Learning each other's strengths and weaknesses, growing closer as the years had progressed. Evidently it had never been that way before me. Rhodes had always felt like an outsider looking in with Asha's other relationships. I was somehow instrumental in bringing about this closeness, according to her. Something about the force of my personality, or my aura, as Rhodes referred to it, had cemented this marriage and friendship into something special. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"She loved you more deeply than any of the ones before," she continued.

I already knew that. The emptiness I was fighting to keep at bay was testament to that fact. The other half of my heart was gone, and the pain, when I finally faced it, was going to be something greater than myself. I wasn't sure that I could handle it.

"I love you, as well. I'll always be here for you, if you need me," she finished.

Good to know, but I doubted she'd want anything to do with me by the time this was all over. The fury that was boiling inside of me pushing to get out was not something I'd want Rhodes to be a part of. She was too kind, too good for that.

"Please, just leave me alone now," I whispered. I'd heard enough. I needed to think. I needed to remember.

She got up from my side and left the room. To go where, I didn't know or care. I stared into the fire. The yellow glow of the flames became the golden orb of an Egyptian moon, the heat from the fire, the sultry air of that night so long ago:

 

_"I love you, Michael." We were leaning against a huge boulder, one insignificant stone in the thousands forming the Great Pyramids. "There is no more perfect place to consummate our love than here, in the shadow of the pyramids."_

_Her mouth closed over mine and, as was wont to happen, everything in my world disappeared in that moment. Her affect on me was so curious and wonderful and exciting and arousing, and I wanted to drown in her love. But, Asha was forgetting something very important. I groaned in frustration, and pulled away from her._ _"I love you as well, but you're forgetting something," I gasped. Her kisses always left me rather breathless._

_"Don't be silly! I'm a vampire. I forget nothing." She laughed and then started planting kisses along my neck. "I remember that you're beautiful." Kiss. "That you're warm." Nibble. "That you smell delicious." Kiss. "And that you kiss me like there's no tomorrow." Soft laughter and a wandering hand._

_"Asha!" I laughed, despite myself, and pushed her hand away. There wasn't anyone around, but one could never tell when a stranger might round the corner. Asha's hand between my legs was **not** something for public consumption, although I enjoyed it immensely. _ _"I refuse my lady's attentions," I said haughtily, gently pushing her off me._

_She backed away and eyed me suspiciously. I saw the wheels turning in her mind. She could think for the rest of eternity, but she'd never guess my intentions._

_She grinned. "You **love** this lady's attentions. What mischief are you about?"_

_"I'm just a poor innocent farm boy from England. I suspect, my dear Asha, that you're attempting to corrupt me," I answered smugly. "You can't think that I would just give myself to you without a guarantee that you'll still love me in the morning. I may wake up, expecting to be lying in your arms, and find that you've run off with the local camel herder."_

_Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "What nonsense is this?"_

_I stuck my hands in my pockets and grinned crookedly at her. "I'm just protecting my interests."_

_She smirked. "You have no interests. You're just a poor innocent farm boy, remember?" She was warming to my game, although she obviously had no idea what I was getting at._

_"Oh, I **have** interests. I have my reputation—" I insisted, and then smiled. "—and my virtue. If you want them, you have to pay the price I'm asking for them."_

_She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath—for courage, obviously, since she didn't need to breathe._ _"What is your asking price then?" she inquired._

_I hesitated, unsure of her reaction to my forthcoming suggestion._

_"Come on, spit it out," she said with a grin. "That camel herder is looking more handsome by the minute."_

_I took a deep breath and then blurted it out into the quiet Egyptian night under the watchful eye of a silent moon._ _"Marriage. Marry me, Asha. Marry me, and then I'm yours."_

_She smiled. "That is all you want?"_

_"That is all I want."_

_In an instant, she was in my arms, smiling up at me, her eyes shining with happiness. "Then you shall have it, Michael. I would be honored to be your wife."_

  
I looked down at my left hand and the wide band on my fourth finger—real gold, hammered flat by an Egyptian craftsman and shaped into an eternal circle of love. Asha had worn a thinner one. Rhodes still wore hers on a gold chain around her neck. I wondered if Asha's ring had survived the fire. _Should I go back and look for it?_ I decided against it. Even if I found it, it wouldn't change anything.

 

_"An ancient Egyptian girl would take her belongings to the man's home and that meant they were married," Asha explained. "But, you have no home, and I have no belongings to speak of."_

_We were sitting in the sand with our backs up against the pyramid. Our hands were clasped tightly together as we discussed our wedding plans._ _I shrugged. "That just means an Egyptian wedding is not an option. We can always get married in the traditional way of the Europeans."_

_"Which is?" she asked curiously._

_"A church. A minister. Vows are exchanged, and also rings. The people in attendance are witnesses. The husband and wife kiss to finalize the ceremony, and then they start their life together."_

_She snorted derisively. "Michael. No church is going to consecrate a marriage between a vampire and a human. No minister would ever perform such a ceremony."_

_"Then, my dear Asha—" I turned, gave her a tender kiss on the cheek and smiled. "—we make up our own ceremony."_

 

"Michael. _Michael!"_ I reluctantly pulled my eyes away from the fire, and my heart away from the past, to find Rhodes back at my side. 

"Where were you?" she asked softly. She tenderly pushed my stubborn lock of hair off my forehead. It fell back, of course. My gaze dropped to her neckline. The golden chain was there, with the small ring attached.

"I was thinking about the wedding." 

"It was beautiful, wasn't it?" She sighed and reached for my hand. I looked down at our fingers interlocked together and the memories of that night came rushing back: 

 

_Asha and I were facing each other and holding hands. Rhodes stood beside us so that she could see both our faces. She was our witness, but also an important part of the ceremony._

_Asha and Rhodes both wore loose fitting gowns of light cotton popular with Egyptian women. Asha's was light blue and Rhodes' a pristine white. I had donned a lightweight pair of trousers and a white cotton shirt—not exactly the attire for a traditional wedding, but then, this wasn't a traditional wedding in any sense of the word._

_Rhodes' waist length, light brown hair was unbound tonight—loose, free flowing and wild. I sometimes wondered if her hair was its own living, breathing entity, so alive it seemed, at times. She was shorter than me, but not by much—not nearly as tiny as Asha. She was a very animated woman, very exciting. Her energy was contagious. I was drawn to it, just as strongly as I was drawn to Asha's quiet intensity. They were two very different women, physically and emotionally, but they were both stunningly beautiful and their pale skin glowed underneath the light of the moon. I was mesmerized._

_I focused my attention on my future wife. I'd been fooled once into thinking she was a tender and exotic flower to be handled delicately in trembling hands. I now knew differently. She was small and powerful and could be deadly when the occasion required it—a surprisingly alluring combination. I respected her strength, admired her courage, and longed, more than anything, to be her equal._

_Her long black hair was braided into a single thick plait. It lay across her shoulder and down her chest, the end of it falling past her knee. The absence of her normally loose flowing hair accentuated her delicate features. Hers was a very feminine face: large almond shaped eyes, small nose, full lips that could keep my attention for hours, high arching cheekbones, and her hair....I smiled inwardly at the thought of slowly undoing Asha's braid later tonight, and running my fingers through that thick, black silk. It was a special fantasy of mine._

_We had decided beforehand that I would say my vows first. I'd ran over lines and lines of poetry in my mind, trying to come up with the most perfect and beautiful vows, but when I'd practiced them aloud, they'd sounded insincere and trite. I'd finally given up and decided to do the intelligent thing: listen to my heart. My mother had always told me, as a child at her knee, that your heart speaks to you. When it does, you must listen, she'd said. For if you do not, you're doomed to a lifetime of listening to the voice of regret. I felt the invisible presence of my mother at my side as I spoke my heart to Asha._

_"Asha, I give to you this night, all that I have: my body, my heart, my soul, and my life. I give these things to you freely and with all the love that I possess. And when I finally join you in this life and become your equal in strength, I promise to protect you always, as you have protected me. No one will ever replace you in my heart. Ever."_

_A soft sigh from Rhodes. A warm smile from Asha, and then it was her turn._

_"Michael, I vow to love and protect you, and to always be by your side wherever this life takes us. There has been no other like you, and never will be again. You are my last, my only. The bond of love we form this night will live in our hearts for eternity. You are my singer: il suo cantante. My heart: il mio cuore. My soul: la mia anima. My life: la mia vita. Forever: per sempre."_

_I felt the hot sting of tears as I smiled back at her—tears of joy. We both turned to face Rhodes, Asha's best friend and closest companion for more years than I'd been alive. We'd both agreed that our marriage ceremony would be incomplete without her. She was such an intrinsic part of our lives, and we had no plans on changing that just because we were getting married. We intended for her to continue holding her special place in our life and in our hearts for as long as she wished it._ _I took her right hand in mine, and Asha took her left._

 _She looked at us both, and spoke with much seriousness and decorum:_  
  
_"Mariasha and Michael. I stand witness to your vows this 15th day of October, in the year of our Lord, 1102." Then she smiled, a mischievous smile that had me wondering what was coming next. Her unpredictability was part of her charm._

_She continued. "I vow to be a friend to both of you for the rest of our lives, and with that comes certain services. Feel free to make use of these services at any time you may need them. They're free and in limitless supply." She shot us an amused glance before continuing. I looked over at Asha. She was smiling and I was trying very hard not to laugh out loud. This was supposed to be a serious ceremony, after all._

_1) "I'll listen to your problems and tell you if you're being stupid._  
_2) If you're depressed or bored, you WILL smile. I have the best jokes and stories in town._  
_3) If you go out in public looking like a ragamuffin, I'll make you change your clothes. We have certain fashion standards to uphold, you know._  
_4) I can handle your money for you, as long as you don't get upset when some of it occasionally goes missing._  
_And 5) Michael, if you need someone to prepare you a delicious home-cooked meal, I can give you directions to the nearest inn."_

_We laughed quietly as she went through her list, but then the lightheartedness was suddenly gone. Rhodes grew serious, squeezed both of our hands and continued:_

_"I will always be there for both of you—together or separately, it doesn't matter. If your heart has a need and I can help, I'll be there and I'll stay there until it's fixed, or you tell me to go away. If at any time I'm intruding upon your privacy, you need only tell me. My feelings will not be hurt. I consider my presence in your lives to be an honored privilege. I never want to do anything that will harm our friendship or the love we feel for each other. Please be honest with me, and I will do the same for you. Love me and I will love you. Protect me and I will protect you. Share your lives with me and I will share mine with you. For eternity."_

_"For eternity," Asha and I repeated together._

_We exchanged rings. We'd had three rings made by a local artisan: a wide gold band for me, a narrow one for Asha, and a tiny one on a gold chain for Rhodes. After everyone's rings were in place, I pulled my wife gently into my arms and kissed her for a very, very long time._

_"Oh dear," Rhodes said brightly. "This is one of those times when I'm invading your privacy. I'm going to leave now. Goodbye you two! Don't mind me. I'm just going to go and swim the Nile for entertainment. Who knows, maybe I'll run up on a nice hungry crocodile to wrestle. So, you two have fun! Good night!"_

_Asha and I ignored her chattering and continued kissing. By the time we pulled apart she was gone, and we were left alone in the dark shadows of the pyramid._

_"We can find an inn if you prefer," Asha said quietly._

_"No." I shook my head and smiled. "We're going to make love for the first time beneath the Egyptian moon and in the shadows of the Great Pyramids."_

 

  
"I meant what I said that night. Those vows weren't spoken lightly," Rhodes said. "I'm here for you as long as you need me." Her voice jerked me back unexpectedly into the present.

I knew she was sincere. She would literally stay with me until I told her to leave. Such was the closeness of our friendship and the strength of our bond, but I couldn't allow it. Rhodes couldn't go where I was going.

"Please leave me alone with my thoughts," I implored softly. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I also didn't want her company at that particular moment.

I sat in that chair all through the night, and all the next day. I watched impassively as life went on around me. The sun set. The moon rose. The wind blew. Rhodes would quietly steal into the room occasionally and poke at the embers. She'd glance my way in concern and then leave. This same routine went on for another night and another day.

The entire time, I relived moments of our life together: our first night as husband and wife, our travels around the world, our laughter, and even our quarrels. Asha and I were two very stubborn individuals. We'd often clashed, but our anger had never lasted very long. One of us would acquiesce and all would be well until next time. It had never been one-sided. Both of us had compromised fairly equally. Rhodes had always been there, offering advice or flouncing away in mild frustration when we'd politely refused her help. She'd quite often told us we were being stupid, which we were, but we'd always found our way back to our foundation: our love for one another.

And though these were fond memories, they were overshadowed by the constant presence of Aro. His voice, his expression, his incredible coldness in the face of Asha's pleading, was continually in my thoughts. As I relived the happier times of my life, the memories of her death were still there in the background of my mind, feeding the hate and rage that was building slowly inside of me. The wound inside of me was festering. It had made its home somewhere deep inside my soul, and had yet to reach the surface. Red streaks of rage had begun moving outward from it, like the tell-tale signs of infection and rot. It was about this time that Rhodes decided I'd brooded long enough. I was sure my quietness worried her. It worried _me._

"Michael." She slipped her arms around me from behind and held me. We both stared down at the cold hearth. The ashes of the spent fire reminded me of Asha. "Her soul is at peace. She's with God now. Take comfort in that."

I snorted softly in derision. "You actually believe in that nonsense?"

She ran her fingers through my hair and laid a soft kiss on the side of my cheek. "Yes, I do. It's not nonsense. We have a creator, vampire and human alike, a creator who loves us and has a place for us to rest when life's labours are done."

Rhodes inadvertently stirred the boiling pot of rage within me without realizing what she'd done. The anger began to churn and roll and slowly bubble to the surface. I laughed bitterly. "There is no God, n creator, no all-powerful being who loves us. I used to believe all of that, but I don't any longer. Asha is gone, that's all. Just gone. She's not coming back. She's not resting anywhere. Her body is a pile of ashes in a burned-out cottage. I'll never see her again or hold her again. I'll never feel her touch, hear her voice. Nothing. She's gone."

"I refuse to believe that," she replied sharply. "Life just didn't happen by accident. God created us, and there _is_ an existence of some kind after this."

" _Asha_ created me!" I spat angrily. I stood up and hurled the chair across the room. I turned and unleashed my fury upon her. "No Christian God created me! It was Asha who made me what I am now, and it was _MY_ decision! No God made that decision for me! What lunacy is that, Rhodes?! There's no ridiculous imaginary being involved in this madness!!"

She tried to sooth my hot temper, but the fire had been stoked. The rage was in full rolling boil now. "What kind of God would create a creature like us? Tell me that!" I shouted at her. "We're immortal. We're monsters who prey on everything that walks this earth. Nothing can hurt us except our own kind, and you're telling me an intelligent being did that? You're mad! We're an anomaly, a freak of nature that shouldn't exist! If we wanted, we could take over this entire planet and not a single human could stop us! We've been killing for centuries, and no one has stopped us. Surely no... _God_...has stepped in to halt the slaughter! Do you honestly think He'd sit back and just watch while his creation was decimated by the likes of us?! Don't you think if He existed, he'd put a stop to it?!"

"Michael, listen to me!" Rhodes shouted back, grabbing at my arms to calm me. I flung her away, onto the sofa.

"No, you listen to ME! What kind of God would create a being who can't even grieve the death of his only love?! I have no tears, Rhodes! I have no outlet for the pain! I can't even cry for her! What kind of God would do such a FUCKING. DESPICABLE. THING!!"

As soon as the words left my mouth, the rage went with it. Grief, more intense than anything I'd ever experienced, engulfed my body, flooding in from some hidden well of despair deep within me. I slumped back against the wall in defeat. It was too much for me to handle. Rhodes was there in an instant, her slender arms wrapped tightly around me. I let her hold me, let her croon softly to me, let her lead me to the sofa. I collapsed against her as I finally gave in to the overwhelming emptiness that I'd been fighting off for the past two days. I let her comfort me as my body shook with tearless sobs in her arms. I heard her own quiet grief in my ear as we held each other in a desperate embrace.

"She was my best friend, and I have no tears either," she sobbed softly. "But I still grieve, as do you, my precious Michael. Let it out and begin to heal."

I did. I let it out. I sobbed, even though there was no relief in it. I ranted and raged about the room like a rabid animal, cursing God and anything and everyone that came to mind. I sobbed some more and then heaped curses down upon Rhodes for no reason. My behavior was despicable, but I was powerless to stop it. It was as if my actions were those of someone else, someone I didn't recognize, someone Asha would not have known. There was nothing I could do to fix what had happened, but I hadn't accepted that fact yet. That particular bit of knowledge was far from my reach in my present condition. And even though I raged like a wild man, I sensed that I wasn't through. The wound deep in my soul was still festering, and it was almost to the point of bursting. When it did, its poison would spread all over my body and take over my mind. I had to get away from Rhodes before that happened.

"I'm going to Italy," I said flatly, after my final temper tantrum had wound down. There were no more curses, no more sobs, left inside of me.

"Michael, no!" Rhodes shouted, angry now. "You musn't!"

I turned to her in astonishment. "Are you afraid he'll kill me? And do you think I care?" I laughed bitterly. "I have nothing left to lose. I want to face the man who murdered my wife, and if that ends up being my last act in this life, then so be it."

She screamed at me, pleaded, and even threatened me physically but it was to no avail. I was going and she couldn't stop me. I was stronger than her and she knew it. Her threats were empty. She begged to go with me, but I refused her. Rhodes couldn't go where I was going. In defeat, she watched me leave, but not before saying a final goodbye. We both knew I might not come back. She cared. I didn't.

She raised up slightly on her tip toes and kissed me full on the mouth. It momentarily shocked me, and I responded before I could think it through. I kissed her back, a passionate and hard meeting of the mouths that had the potential to go on for a very long time. I finally pulled away and stared down at her in silent confusion.

"I love you, Michael." Her eyes were blazing with intensity. "Please don't go."

I shook my head in disbelief at her startling confession. "Your love is wasted on me." I pushed some loose strands of her hair away from her forehead and then kissed it tenderly.

I turned my back on her and left.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Volterra, Italy - Fall of 1108** _

  
"No need to introduce yourself. I know who you are, Michael Golland."

The one called Aro, and the murderer of Asha, slowly approached me. Two other vampires stood just behind him. The blond one was Caius, with hair reaching to his collar, and the imposing dark one, with a decidedly bored expression, was Marcus. The strong one, Felix, and the one who had held Asha down, was standing on my left, hovering just behind me. The young girl and boy, Jane and Alec, stood to the right of Aro. Both stared impassively at me like the scene held no interest for them.

"I'm not just Michael Golland. I was Mariasha's mate."  I was surprised at the quiet arrogance in my voice, considering I was surrounded by very dangerous vampires whose power I couldn't even begin to conceive of, vampires who could kill me with very little effort.

Aro's eyes narrowed. "Get on your knees," he ordered softly.

I raised my eyes to his in defiance. "No," I said firmly. I was _not_ going to bow before Asha's killer, even if it meant my death. I heard a single word before the pain began.

"Jane..."

After that, nothing else existed except agony. Gone was the opulent marble room with its towering fluted columns, their facades etched with Latin philosophical truths. The only thing that broke through the haze was the sound of screaming—hoarse guttural noises of intense suffering. It wasn't until the pain suddenly stopped that I realized it had been my throat bringing forth those horrible sounds. It wasn't until I opened my eyes that I realized my face was plastered against the cold marble floor, and that I had been writhing on that same floor in a most undignified manner. And to add to my indignity, the floor and my face were slick with the venom that had drooled uncontrollably from my mouth.

So this was how the civilized Volturi enforced their laws, with brutality and torture. They were no better than the barbaric humans who had tortured and killed their way through history since time began. And we're supposed to be superior beings...

I moaned once, softly, and then pulled myself upright until I was swaying on hands and knees. I began the slow process of standing.  I refused to remain on my knees at this man's feet.

There was no warning this time, no word spoken. The pain crashed down on me again and forced me to the floor, stripping away any control I had over my mind or my body—longer this time, and more intense, if such a thing were even possible. The sounds echoing in the room were monstrous and primitive and should never be heard coming from a living being's mouth. The cessation of pain left me whimpering like a tiny babe. Spittle flew from my mouth with each gasp of pain as I labored to bring the room back into focus.

Then I slowly began the process again. I moaned and pulled myself upright on hands and knees, and began to stand. I braced myself this time, fully expecting even more agony to rain down on me, but it didn't. I brought myself up to a full standing position and stared insanity straight in the eyes.

"You have an impressive tolerance for pain," Aro said.

"I have always possessed a stubbornness of will," I gasped hoarsely.

"So I see," he acknowledged. "Why are you here?" His voice was deceptively friendly; a small smile played across his lips. "What purpose does it serve to subject yourself to such indignities when the act is done? You cannot bring Mariasha back to life with your stubbornness."

"I wanted to look into the eyes of the man who ripped away the reason for my existence. I wanted to see what lay behind them."

A tenseness suddenly permeated the room as everyone, including me, waited for Aro's reaction.

"And what do you see?" he asked curiously.

If I told him the truth, my life would end that moment on the cold marble floor. I'd seen it the first time my gaze had touched his: insanity, pure and simple. "Nothing that interests me," I sneered with disgust. A truthful statement.

A chorus of soft growls spread through the room. Jane took a menacing step toward me, but Aro waved her back with silent downward slash of his hand. He reached his hand toward me. "May I?"

I waited silently and without resistance. I knew what he wanted, and I also knew there was no refusing him. He laid his palm tenderly on my cheek as his eyes held steady on mine. I didn't know what to expect. It would seem that seeing the entirety of a person's life would take quite a long time, but it didn't. After a few moments, his eyes suddenly widened and then sharpened intensely. He pulled his hand away and dropped it slowly and elegantly to his side. His gaze swept curiously over my face.

"Tell me about your gift," he stated, his voice quiet but forceful.

His command startled me. I'd been expecting questions about Asha or Rhodes or even my human life. I'd never expected him to focus on the one thing I knew very little about. "I can't. I know nothing of it."

"What do you mean you know nothing of it?" he asked sharply. "I saw you use it in your memories. Tell me now."

How could I explain something I didn't understand myself? The entire incident had been an accident. I'd never even known I'd possessed a gift until the damage had been done. "I discovered it accidentally and have never used it again."

"What is the nature of it?" he asked. "The woman was obviously severely damaged. What specifically happened to her?"

"It is my understanding that once you touch me, you know my entire life. Therefore, you've seen what I've seen, you know what I know, which is nothing. I asked after the woman's health, discreetly of course, but she'd been removed to a hospital. I never discovered the specifics of her injuries."

"Perhaps we can test it now. Felix, go find a poor hapless human with nothing left to live for," he ordered with a smirk.

"No," I stated, my jaw clenched in stubborn anger.

For the very first time since I walked into this cavernous room, I had a glimmer of hope that I would actually walk back out again. I had something this lunatic wanted, and I'd gained something of my own: the knowledge that his gift was flawed. As he'd rifled through my memories, he'd missed some very crucial information. Information that was obviously of significance only to me.

His gaze hardened. His gentlemanly demeanor turned threatening. "Do you need more persuasion?" Jane glided silently to his side, ready to inflict more pain at his command.

I shrugged. "You can torture me all you want, but I won't perform for you."

"You're a fledgling," he snarled. The thin veneer of culture that had cloaked his every action and word disappeared in an instant. "You dare defy the Volturi? A vampire for barely two years and you flaunt your arrogance before me like an equal?!" There was no visible change in the vampires around him, except that a tenseness, as solid as the thick walls surrounding us, suddenly hung heavy over the room.

I held his angry stare, but said nothing though his tirade. I set my jaw in stubbornness and stared him down. He could torture me, but he would not control me. He'd have to kill me first.

Then as suddenly as his temper had flared, it dissipated. The gently smiling cultured gentleman of before had returned. He turned and walked back to the three empty throne-like chairs. He eased himself down in the center one and crossed his legs. The blond vampire and the bored one took their places in their respective seats. He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, brought his fingers together in a steeple and focused his gaze on me. He smiled but said nothing. We faced each other this way for awhile. The room was bathed in total silence while Aro pondered my fate.  Abruptly he stood and advanced slowly toward me, only stopping when our faces were inches apart. I wanted to back away, uncomfortable at his closeness, but I held my ground and his stare.

He smiled and spoke quietly, "I'm going to let you leave." I sensed a wave of surprise sweep through the room. "But you shouldn't feel too relieved, Michael. You see, you've come to my attention now. Your anonymity of before is gone. You may walk freely from this building, but know that your freedom is but a temporary gift from me. When I so desire, it will end. I have the most skilled tracker in existence in my coven. Your every move will be monitored. But, if you tire of my invisible prison, if you grow weary of looking over your shoulder, you may come back to me. I'll have a place reserved at my side especially for you."

An icy dread crawled through my body. The man truly was imbalanced, as well as manipulative and coldly calculating. I had something he obviously wanted very badly: my power. And when time is measured in centuries instead of days, without death to stop their progression, one can afford to be patient. I knew with a cold certainty that Aro was a very patient man.

As I left the room, he called to me. "Oh, Michael..."

I turned to face him. He was smirking arrogantly once again.

He smiled widely. "Mariasha is still dead." 

I managed to control my rage until I got further down the hall. Then I snarled, made a fist and buried my arm elbow-deep into the rock wall. The gaping hole would serve as my signature. Every time Aro passed it he would see evidence of the depth of my hatred for him. The one walking with me, Demetri, stared curiously at me for a moment, then laughed softly and turned back the way he'd come.

I stepped out into the cool moonlit night of Volterra a changed man. Asha's murder and the cruelty I'd just witnessed had effectively shattered my idealistic vision of my life as a vampire. The comforting cocoon that had surrounded Asha, Rhodes and I for the past six years had been nothing but a facade. That vision of an eternity of happiness with my beautiful soul mate, of our wandering the world together, gazing upon the splendors of this earth in wonder, living and loving with an intensity only vampires could experience, was gone.

All the hours, days and months Asha had spent teaching me to be cultured, mannerly, and in control of my inner demon had all been for naught. The world she had been teaching me to live in didn't exist. The stark realities of this life were violence and power. And to think that I'd begged to become a part of it. Vampires like Aro and his coven would crush me like a cockroach underfoot if I allowed it. Or even worse, they'd control me for their own sick and twisted purposes. _That_ I would never allow.

The first order of business was to explore my power. I needed to know exactly what leverage I had in my possession. Controlling my power meant controlling my destiny. But right now, I had more pressing needs: food. I was thirsty and in no mood to be particular. The first human who crossed my path was destined to become my meal. Whether innocent or not, it made no difference to me any longer. Young or old, no matter. Male or female, no preference.

I was a vampire. A vampire who now rejected all of the civility of his previous life. A vampire who now gave free reign to the demon inside of him. A vampire who was filled with hate and a desire for revenge, and who now had a limitless supply of victims to fuel it.

 

**MARIASHA (of Egyptian descent, a morph between Ashley Greene and Alicia Keyes)**

 

 **RHODES (of Greek descent, a morph between Tara Reid and Deepika** **Padukone)**

 


	23. The Mobile Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hurricane Alice saw in her vision was a true historical event. Below is an excerpt from a history text of the Mobile area:
> 
> September 27, 1906 Hurricane hits Mobile, Alabama
> 
> The Mobile area was not the only one to be ravaged by the storm. The entire Mississippi-Louisiana coast suffered severely. Many persons lost their lives at Biloxi, and some 20 schooners and hundreds of small craft were lost at Pascagoula. The death toll at Pensacola was estimated at 50 persons, with $5,000,000 in property damage. At least 100 Malayans in a settlement on Lake Bourgne, La., were said to have been killed.
> 
> Source: Highlights of 75 years in Mobile, Mobile, Ala.: First National Bank of Mobile, 1940, pages 67-69.

_**Thursday, September 27, 1906** _

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

The skies were dark and oppressive. The winds were rising and a steady rain had moved in and settled over Biloxi like a cold, threadbare blanket. Lower Mississippi was cowering at the edges of a massive hurricane like a frightened child awaiting the sting of a switch.

When I finally arrived at the hospital from hunting, I was soaked to the bone. I quickly pulled a change of clothes from my locker and dressed in the water closet, all the time wondering if Alice was all right. The disinfectant smell overwhelmed my senses even before I reached her doorway. I peered inside it to find a lone janitor mopping the floor with the offending substance. All traces of her lovely scent was gone. The bed was made and empty, although papers and crayons were strewn messily across her covers.

"Where is she?" I asked the janitor. He shrugged his shoulders without bothering to look my way, and continued on silently with his cleaning. I rushed down the hall and spied Mrs. Filkins coming toward me. "Where is Alice?" The question came out harsher than I intended and caused Mrs. Filkins to raise her eyebrows in offense.

"She's in isolation. When I told her it looked like a hurricane was coming, she went into hysterics and had to be restrained. Such a timid little creature."

I started walking away from Mrs. Filkins as soon as the word "isolation" left her mouth, not even bothering to listen to whatever else she had to say. When I turned the corner and was out of her view, I took off and raced down the halls to the isolation rooms. I stopped in the hallway outside the closed doors and listened. It wasn't hard to discover which one Alice was in. She wasn't crying any longer, but she was snubbing deeply. I could imagine her tiny body jerking violently with each one, so forceful were the sounds coming from behind one of the doors. I got down on my knees and pressed my cheek against the wood.

"Alice? It's Morgan. I'm here. You're safe."

"Mor.....gan?" she asked. She was snubbing so badly that my name came out in two distinct and painful syllables.

"It's all right. I'm here now. I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you earlier."

"Ma......ry.....Grace?" she snubbed. "Is......she....?"

"Mary Grace is far away from here. I promise you. She's safe in the mountains. Nowhere near the beach and this hurricane."

"Are..........you........sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive. She believes in your gift. She would never change her mind and go to the beach, not after what you told her. They'll be back this weekend, safe and sound. I promise you that. I'm sure she'll be here to visit you as soon as she can. I know she misses you just as much as you miss her."

"The....hurr....icane won't....get her?"

"No. By the time it gets to where she is, it will be just a little wind and a great deal of rain. She won't be harmed. And _you're_ safe, too. This building is strong and can withstand a much more powerful hurricane than this one."

"I tried....to....see her, but I ....can't!" she wailed softly.

"Sssh. Just don't think about it so hard, and maybe the vision will come." I needed a diversion to take her mind off of the hurricane and Mary Grace and keep her calm. _Perhaps another story..._

"Are you going to sit here half the night again and ignore the rest of your duties, Mr. Grant?" Mrs. Filkins was walking at a fast clip down the hall toward me, her heels tapping angrily on the tiles. "You're already late as it is. If you think you're going to spend the rest of the night calming down the little princess, you're badly mistaken. Get to your duties now, or I'll report you to the supervisor in the morning."

A soft growl inadvertently escaped my throat as I rose to my feet. My lips started to curl over my teeth before I could stop myself.

"You have something you want to say to me?" she asked defiantly, her fists perched on her hips.

 _Fuck you, you heartless bitch!_ I almost screamed, but I clamped my mouth shut just in time, and locked the incident away in a deep, dark compartment specially reserved for Mrs. Filkins. One day, that compartment was going to become full and the door to it wasn't going to completely shut. Then, no power on this earth would be able to keep the demon from escaping.

"Of course you're right," I answered quietly. "Just let me say goodnight to Alice and I'll get back to work."

I glared at her receding back. I imagined the angry tapping of her heels to be two knives stabbing repeatedly into her chest, my hands on the hilts, her blood splattering lusciously over my face. I shook my head and tried to clear my mind of the horrific images flashing through it. Never in my existence had a fragile human evoked such rage in me and such a strong lust to kill just for the pure joy of it.

"Morgan?" Alice's muffled voice jerked me back from my bloody contemplations to the present.

"I'm here," I said, kneeling once again outside her door. "As you probably heard, I can't stay with you. I have to go to work now. Perhaps you could lie down and try to sleep. Rest your head on your arms and think about things that make you smile. When you awake, you'll be able to go back to your room."

"I'm cold, and I didn't get to eat dinner."

"I'll see what I can do about that. Just try to sleep."

I held out very little hope that Mrs. Filkins would provide a pillow and blanket for her, and food was even less likely. This was one of those times when, perhaps, Celine was right. Being subservient to humans could be very demeaning, especially when the one holding the reins of power was a human like Mrs. Filkins.

I wanted so badly to rip the door from its hinges and take Alice away from this place and Biloxi, take her home with me and nurture her body and her mind, and help her learn to control her powerful gift. But the risk was too great. The Volturi would never tolerate me raising a human child to adulthood, and the attentions of Aro were not something I desired. Not now. Not ever.

I cornered Mrs. Filkins outside a patient's room. "Alice is cold and hungry."

"Didn't you hear me earlier, Mr. Grant? Get to work, _now_ , or I'll report you first thing in the morning!"

She tried to push past me but I blocked her way. "Perhaps the supervisor would be interested to know that you regularly put patients in isolation without the basic comforts of food and warmth. I suspect he would find that much more disturbing than my attempts to comfort a frightened patient who has been treated sorely at the hands of one of his nurses."

"Are you threatening me?"

"It's not a threat at all. Just a reminder. I think, perhaps, you have temporarily forgotten the mission of this hospital. We're supposed to be helping people, not punishing them for their afflictions." She glared at me, considering the weight of my threat. It must have been substantial because she finally backed down.

"I'll take care of it when I can. You, in the meantime, can go back to work."

I nodded deferentially. "Thank you. When will she get out?"

"Oh for Heaven's sake! She'll be back in her own bed before the night is over," she huffed and then hurried away from me in the opposite direction.

Before returning to my duties, I made a stop in Alice's room. The janitor was gone, but not the disgusting smell he'd left behind. I went over to her bed, meaning to clean up the papers and turn down the covers for her, so that when she returned she could just slide beneath them and quickly return to sleep, but my attention strayed to the content of the drawings laying strewn about her bed.

She had evidently spent the afternoon drawing a great number of women wearing long dresses, with varying colored hair of red, yellow, brown and black. I smiled as I realized what they all had in common: red eyes. She'd spent the hours drawing replicas of Asha, her idea of a princess no doubt, since many of the women sported a crude intimation of a crown. I gathered them up, along with her crayons, and stacked them in a neat pile at the foot of her bed. Before leaving I did a once over of her room and noticed something on the floor, under the bed: her doll box. I retrieved it, stuffed the clothes back inside, closed the lid, and then put it inside the metal cabinet. Everything looked in order now, ready for her return. All except for the noxious smell, and there was nothing I could do about that.

I checked on her every chance I got, but only heard silence from behind the isolation door. The comforting sound of her regular breathing assured me that she was sleeping peacefully, thank goodness.

 _Only two more days before Mary Grace returns._ I found myself growing impatient with the waiting and wishing time would move faster, but such impatience only seemed to slow things to an even greater crawl. Perhaps a return to her lessons tomorrow evening would be the best course of action. I'd pampered her all week and allowed her education to be pushed aside in favor of immersing her in a fairy tale world. A quick jaunt back into the real world of reading and mathematics was just what was needed to get us through the next couple of days. She'd probably balk, but I'd set my foot down and insist. I was the adult in this situation, after all.

A few hours before my shift was over, Alice was returned to her bed safe and sound. She would wake tomorrow not knowing anything about the hurricane and I wouldn't be here to reassure her. Since I couldn't leave her a note, and didn't trust Mrs. Filkins to relay a message to her, on an impulse I decided to draw her a few pictures to convey what I wanted to say.

I hastily sketched out a series of drawings that would reassure her that everything was going to be all right. One of Mary Grace and Wills sitting in rocking chairs in the mountains, smiling at each other. Another one of Mary Grace holding a bundle in her arms and Wills looking over her shoulder. And a final one of all of us together in this room, everyone smiling and happy. I added a little color with the crayons, and then printed at the bottom of each one: To Alice. Love, Morgan. She would recognize her name and mine and hopefully the message would be loud and clear. _Everything is going to be fine._

I laid them beside her sleeping form, where she'd certainly find them first thing upon awakening. I gently pushed back a strand of hair out of her eyes and then said my silent goodnights.

 

* * *

  
_**Friday, September 28, 1906** _

 

"How was work?"

Celine's scantily clad form was lounging seductively on the sofa. I'd felt her eyes on me all morning, but was studiously ignoring the acres of bare skin being purposely put on display for my benefit. I'd known Celine for too long; I knew all of her tricks.

"Normal," I answered absent-mindedly. Not for a minute did I think Celine cared one whit about how my evening had went.

"What exactly is normal?" she asked persistently. I stopped reading and glanced up at her. Her eyes were curious and watchful and locked on mine even from across the room.

"I changed bed pans, emptied chamber pots, put fresh linens on all my patients' beds, cleaned and restocked the supply closet in my ward, offered a word of comfort here and there when needed. A normal evening."

"Did the hurricane upset any of the patients? Humans tend to be a little overdramatic about such things," she said with a smirk.

"Most of them weren't even aware of it," I murmured and continued with my reading.

"Are there any patients you feel especially close to? You've always had a disgusting weakness for human women as I recall."

I shot a glare at her across the room. In aggravation, I slammed my book shut and focused my attention solely on her. "What do you want?!"

"Why must you always hold me in suspicion," she said, pouting. "I'm merely interested in what you do all night at that place. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"You're prying into things that aren't any of your business. _That_ is what I object to," I answered coldly. "Why aren't you scurrying back to Daniel now that your mission is complete? I've told you I'm not interested in whatever you and he are cooking up. So why are you still here? Isn't there someone, somewhere who's missing you?"

"I like it here. At first I thought the place drab and uninteresting, but now I'm finding there's much more going on in this little town than meets the eye." She smiled, but it faded quickly from her face. "And I'm fascinated with this new Michael. I want to understand this change in you. Tell me, what brought it on?"

"That's not something I'm going to discuss with you."

"Why not? You used to tell me things. We used to be very close, in every way," she said softly. "What's changed?"

"I no longer live that life, and that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

She made a disgusted sound and flounced angrily from the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her. She was most definitely overstaying her welcome, but how to get rid of her with the least amount of damage to my own life was the perplexing question of the moment.

She emerged several minutes later fully dressed in a floor length, high-collared, russet gown. Long sleeves reached to her wrists and partially covered her gloved hands. A matching hat was perched on her head with an attached swath of lace and netting, which now covered the entire front of her face.

"Where are you going?" I asked, alarmed.

"Out," she announced haughtily.

"In the daylight?"

"Look at me, Michael. There's not an inch of skin showing. These stupid humans won't even have a clue what I am as they pass me on the street."

I didn't even need to ask what she was about. Natural disasters were godsends from heaven for nomadic vampires—an opportunity to feast at will without raising suspicion. A missing person would naturally be written off as an unfortunate victim of the hurricane and no one the wiser.

"Go to Mobile. Don't entertain yourself in Biloxi," I reminded her coldly.

"I know the rules," she answered, just as coldly. And with that, she was gone, leaving a trail of some exotic perfume in her wake. I sighed in relief and returned to my reading, anticipating a relaxing rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

_**Friday evening, September 28, 1906** _

 

Work was uneventful, for once. Mrs. Filkins was avoiding me, which was a perfect state of affairs in my book. Alice was once again calm and playing animatedly with her toys, like the hysteria of the previous day never even happened.

The doctor had spent a long time talking with her today, she'd said, asking her about the episode in her room. Did she have a vision again? What did she see? Alice had quite wisely professed extreme fear of the hurricane as the reason for her hysteria. No mention of Mary Grace or the vision of the beach at Mobile.

She'd asked me about the hurricane and whether people had died. I'd had to admit to her that, in fact, many people had lost their lives, but it was mostly in Mobile, Alabama, and not so many in Biloxi. She'd digested that information silently and continued on with her playing. Her calmness had made me wonder what had been going on inside of her head.

At dinner, I proceeded with my plan to introduce reality back into Alice's routine. She balked at my attempt, of course.

"I don't care about the silly twos!" she proclaimed once again, her mouth puckered into a pout, a frown creasing her brow.

"Is that so? I think, perhaps the problem is that you've _forgotten_ your silly twos." I was trying desperately not to laugh at her endearing obstinance.

"Have not," she answered with her eyes held steadfastly on her meal.

"Prove it," I challenged her. "Say them for me."

"I don't want to," she answered stubbornly. "I want to hear some more about Asha."

"No more stories until you can recite your twos, and that's that," I answered just as stubbornly. "And your ones and your threes and the alphabet, without any errors."

She ate in silence for a few moments, the pout and frown still firmly in place. Suddenly, her tiny little frame deflated like the air let out of a balloon. She sighed and started reciting her twos. Just as I'd suspected, she hadn't forgotten them at all. She'd been testing the strength of my resolve, and thankfully I'd won this small battle. No further stubbornness presented itself as we continued on with the recitation of the alphabet and some writing practice.

 _One more day, and Mary Grace will be back._ I wondered who would be more happy to see her, Alice or me?

 

* * *

 

_**Saturday morning, September 29, 1906** _

 

I was looking forward to a quiet day at home. I hoped that Celine had found a suitable diversion in Mobile that would keep her away and occupied, at least for today.

I noticed, as I made my way home near sunrise, that several houses in my neighborhood were missing parts of roofs. Debris was scattered in the streets, signs were bent to the ground and palm fronds lay everywhere along the road. My house, thankfully, had sustained no serious ill effects from the storm. According to the newspaper, most of the worst damage in Biloxi had been concentrated at the docks, with many small boats being swept out to sea, some along with their owners inside. The lighthouse, a local landmark and object of pride for Biloxi, had emerged from the storm unscathed. I imagined today would be another busy day of cleanup efforts for the residents of my fair city. It was astounding the assorted bits of random rubbish that a hurricane left behind as it moved steadily on its way inland.

And one of those bits of rubbish was sitting on my Chesterfield sofa beside Celine, sporting an arrogant smile that was just begging to be wiped off his face. Perhaps I'd oblige him, after I discovered why he was here.

"Hello, Michael," he said with a smirk all too familiar to me.

"James..." I growled menacingly. "What are you doing here?"

 


	24. Treachery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book by Arthur Conan Doyle mentioned in this chapter exists and was first published in 1906. The other cloth bound booklet is a figment of my imagination. However, Edgar Cayce actually was alive in 1906, and you can read more about his life in the many published books about him. He was a very fascinating individual.

**~ MORGAN ~**  

"James, what are you doing here?"

"Helping with the cleanup effort," he answered, the smirk still firmly in place. "Hurricanes can be so devastating to a city." Celine laughed softly, her finger trailing idly down his neck as she eyed me closely.

"I wasn't aware you and Celine knew each other." I shrugged off my overcoat and draped it over the kitchen chair, careful to keep my demeanor one of arrogant disinterest.

"We just met last night," she said.

He growled softly and kissed her as she chuckled seductively. I suspected that this sickening display of affection was being purposely played out for my benefit. I hid my growing anger and kept my expression outwardly calm.

"It's really interesting how we met," she said. "We'd inadvertently set our sights on the same poor, hapless victim. Instead of fighting over her, I suggested we share her." Then she turned her gaze to me. "Like _we_ used to, Michael. I'm sure you remember just how much fun that can be."

"I hope you weren't too attached to your human servant. A Miss Tindell, was it?" James chuckled lowly. His eyes, however, were cold and humorless. "We sort of...killed her. Oops."

I went still. Celine was watching me warily. James was smirking, and I was fighting to control my growing fury.

"I hope you weren't fucking her or anything like that," he continued, chuckling. Then his eyes went empty as his laughter faded away. His voice took on a hard, haunting edge. "I hope she wasn't special to you, like your soul mate, for instance."

In a split second, my control snapped and Celine's neck was in my hands, my fingers digging into her skin. "You stupid bitch! I hold you responsible for this!" I snarled menacingly, my face inches from hers, our eyes blazing together. "You know the rules! How could you kill in my own neighborhood?!"

She snarled just as menacingly. "I know your ridiculous rules! I chose to ignore them. She was pathetic. You should have killed her yourself long ago. Don't act like you cared for her. You despised her!"

I snarled in frustration and released her neck from my grip. James was watching impassively from below, only mildly curious as to how this was going to play out. He'd certainly made no attempt to stop me from killing Celine, which I was dangerously close to doing right in front of him. I reigned in my temper and backed away from her, retreating to a far corner of the room. She sank back down into the sofa beside James again. Both of them were watching me warily. "None of this had better come back on me, or you'll both pay dearly for your stupidity!"

"We were discreet, weren't we, honey?" she said, glancing in James' direction.

He laughed and rose from the sofa. My body tensed and my senses went on full alert as he approached me. He stopped a couple of feet in front of me. A muscle in his jaw twitched ever so slightly, an unusual tic for a vampire, but not for James. It was familiar to me, a warning that his fury was simmering hotly just beneath the surface. His bright scarlet eyes narrowed and moved slowly over my face and my body. I waited, stock still, as he made his silent appraisal. _Is this the day?_

"Are you alone?" I asked quietly.

A dry, soft laugh in return. "I'm never alone. My companions are nearby."

 _Not today, then._ I could kill him easily in a one-on-one fight, but I had no chance against his band of companions, as he called them. Newborn vampire thugs was a more apt description. He rarely went anywhere without them. "Too bad," I said with a smirk of my own. "I was hoping you'd finally gained the courage to fight me alone."

He ignored my taunt and continued to run his eyes over my face. "You always were a freak," he said softly. "But your eyes, they're even more freakish now than they used to be. Why is that?"

I chose not to respond, but instead stared blank-faced back at him.

"Look at you," he said, his voice dripping now with contempt. "You're starving yourself, aren't you?" He took a step closer, tilting his head and smirking. "You're an old man, Michael. A weak...old...man." He took another step closer; his eyes glittered with excitement. "I could kill you so easily, and not even need the help of my companions."

I wanted nothing more than to rip him limb from limb, but I couldn't risk it, not with his thugs nearby. The thought of Alice being left alone in that hospital without my protection helped me keep my temper in check. But a little warning might bring James down from his lofty pedestal. I growled menacingly, baring my teeth, just a little. "Back away from me."

"Or what?" he scoffed softly. "You'll use your power on me? This mysterious power that no one's actually seen you use?" He laughed mockingly.

Celine spoke cautiously from the sofa. "It exists. I've seen him use it."

"You've seen it too, James. Remember?"

I saw the hesitation in his eyes, that slight bit of fear as he remembered the incident from so long ago, but he held his ground, his eyes boring into mine.

"No worries. I just stopped by for a little visit to remind you that I'm going to kill you," he whispered. "Not today, but someday."

"So you keep telling me," I said, smirking again. "And yet I'm still here."

"One thing about you hasn't changed," he snarled. "You're still an arrogant bastard!"

I chuckled. "And you're still annoying."

His muscles tensed for a moment and then relaxed, his arrogant smile firmly back in place. "You can't hide from me. You know that. I can track you where ever you go."

"I've never _tried_ to hide from you, James." I laughed softly. "I know how much enjoyment you get out of following me around the world. I wouldn't dream of spoiling your fun."

"I'm just waiting for the right moment," he said. "And you'll have no way of knowing when that will be." He suddenly backed away and returned to Celine's side. "You don't mind sharing your woman for awhile, do you? I'm really enjoying her special talent."

And without waiting to see whether I minded sharing, which I most assuredly did not, he pulled a laughing Celine out the front door with him into the glaring daylight. In an instant, they were gone, so fast that no passing human would have even noticed them emerging from my front door. I only hoped they found some isolated spot far away from prying human eyes, in which to enjoy each other.

I settled down on the sofa and began to go through a mental list of suitable replacements for Miss Tindell. I paused to say a silent thank you to Celine. She was correct in her estimation of my feelings. I despised Miss Tindell, and would not miss her, although I regretted that an innocent had been killed, especially in my neighborhood. Celine had better hope that no suspicion fell on me as a result of her indiscretion, because if it did, she would pay a heavy price for it.

In the middle of my ruminations, a random thought occurred to me that brought a huge smile to my face. That smile soon gave way to full-fledged laughter as I realized the implications of it.

 _James, my old enemy, you have unwittingly entangled yourself in the web of a deadly blonde black widow spider with a very addictive bite!_ It couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

 

* * *

 

_**Saturday evening, September 29, 1906** _

  
A blur of black sped down the hall toward me, leaving a chorus of high-pitched giggles in its wake. _Alice._ I couldn't help but smile at her rambunctiousness. She'd never greeted me in this way before. She skidded to a stop just in front of me and then hurriedly scooted around behind me, her tiny hands clutching at my trousers. She peeked from behind the protective wall of my legs as the angry clacking of Mrs. Filkins shoes rapidly approached. I murmured to her that everything was going to be fine and not to worry, even as I was struggling to control my own laughter.

"Do something to control that little hellion or she's headed for isolation!" Mrs. Filkins huffed as she approached. Her breath was coming in gasps. Evidently she'd been chasing Alice through the halls.

"She's merely excited that Mary Grace will be back tonight," I answered, fighting back the urge to break out in giggles of my own. Alice wasn't the only one anticipating Mary Grace's return. "I'll calm her down."

"See that you do! She's disturbing the other patients!"

She stomped away, her heels loudly rapping the floor until they gradually faded away to nothing. When she was no longer in sight, I stooped down to speak to Alice and administer a little soft discipline. "Were you running through the halls?" I asked curiously. "You know that's not allowed."

She looked down at her feet in what I first thought to be shame. A soft giggle, and then her hand flying to cover her mouth told me everything I needed to know. The little imp inside of her had gotten loose this evening and unleashed its mischievousness upon the poor, unsuspecting Mrs. Filkins.

"It was fun!" She giggled, her eyes sliding hesitantly to my face and then quickly back down to her shoes. She was so adorable; I couldn't seriously chastise her for breaking the rules. I tucked her little hand in mine and led her down the hall. "You really shouldn't do things like that. You'll give Mrs. Filkins apoplexy."

"What's appleplexy?" she asked curiously.

"Apoplexy," I corrected her, chuckling. "It means you could cause her to fall over and die."

"Really?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and glittering with laughter. She jerked her hand loose and took off skipping down the hall in front of me, chanting and giggling over her new word.

"I give Mrs. Filkins appleplexy! I give Mrs. Filkins appleplexy!" she chanted.

I sighed and hurriedly overtook her, grabbing her hand and shooshing her into silence. She giggled and instead started whispering her new word over and over to herself as we made our way to her room.

 _Please hurry, Mary Grace._ I would be extremely happy at her return, but my happiness would pale in comparison to Alice's. She would be ecstatic. What more could a man ask for in life than to be in the presence of such overwhelming joy? As we approached her room, I started to wonder just how long one little child could repeat a word without tiring. Then I realized that the more appropriate question would be how long could _I_ stand it without going insane?

"Appleplexy. Appleplexy. Appleplexy......"

_Hurrrrrry, Mary Grace!_

 

* * *

  
I should have realized that nothing would be accomplished during dinner. Alice was like a little spring, wound tight and bouncing. I spent most of my time trying to keep her energy channeled in a more constructive direction. But after only a few minutes, I began to feel like a salmon swimming upstream. I finally gave up and sat helplessly in my chair and watched her bounce up and down on her bed. 

It was in the middle of this perpetual motion that Mary Grace quietly stuck her head in the door. Taking in the situation, she glanced over at me and smiled sympathetically. I sighed in relief and smiled back, grateful that she was finally here.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed loudly as she finally burst through the door. "I came here to visit a nice, sweet young lady, and look what I find! Why, it's a bouncing ball!"

Alice stopped bouncing and let out a piercing squeal. She scrambled off the bed and threw herself at Mary Grace with all the energy left in her body. "Mary Grace! Mary Grace!"

Mary Grace dropped a large shopping bag to the floor, and scooped her up in her arms. She had no choice but to let herself be subjected to a barrage of kisses and tight squeezing hugs. She glanced helplessly over at me. "You don't look as happy to see me as Alice!" she gasped, laughing.

I chuckled softly. "Believe me, I'm jumping up and down in complete and utter joy inside my head right now." She winked at me and then spent the next few moments trying to calm Alice down.

"Now, you sit on your bed like a prim and proper young lady, and I'll give you your presents," she scolded her gently.

"Presents? For _me?"_

"Yes, but only if you quit lapping at me like an overgrown puppy and trying to squeeze the life out of me!" Mary Grace sputtered with a laugh.

Alice scrambled onto her bed and sat with her legs together, her hands tucked neatly between her knees. She was smiling and trying desperately to control herself. Mary Grace took the bag over to the bed and began digging around in it.

"Did you and Wills finish getting to know each other?" Alice asked innocently as she waited impatiently for her gifts.

Mary Grace shot an astonished, but amused, glance across the room at me. I shrugged. "She wanted to know what you two were doing. That was the only explanation I could come up with at the time." 

"Why no, we didn't finish," she answered with a soft laugh. "Husbands and wives spend a lifetime getting to know each other. It can't all be accomplished in one week, silly girl!" She ruffled Alice's short hair in amusement. "One day you'll understand. Now, here's your first gift." Mary Grace pulled a clump of fabric out of the bag and handed it to her. I moved closer to the bed and to Alice.

"It's a nightgown." Alice sighed, pulling it to her face. "A _soft_ nightgown!" It was beige and trimmed in lace, but not in such as way as would cause her discomfort in the night.

She started taking off her shift in her excitement to try it on. Mary Grace made a startled noise as I hurriedly turned my back. In seconds, her rough cotton nightgown was puddled in the floor at my feet, and I heard the rustlings of the soft fabric moving over her body. At their signal, I turned and smiled. It looked beautiful on her. She slid off the bed and stood, smoothing the fabric around her legs, and running her hands along the soft material. It hung a little past her knees, and had a wide ring of lace four inches from the hem. She twirled in a circle and laughed as the gown swirled outward from her body.

The naked joy in her eyes astounded me. I knew she loved playing with her dolls and dressing them in all of their various outfits, but I never realized the depth of her passion for clothing. She positively glowed as she preened and fussed over the gown. It was like a candle inside of her suddenly burst into flame and lit her up from within. I would buy her an entire wardrobe of clothes just to keep that beaming smile on her face a little longer.

"You like it?" Mary Grace asked, already knowing the answer.

"I love it!" she squealed. She crawled back up onto the bed and arranged herself in her previous pose, impatiently awaiting her next gift.

Mary Grace pulled a jump rope out of the bag and a small book to go with it. Another squeal echoed off the walls as Alice hopped off the bed again and took the rope from her hands. Both of us watched in astonishment as Alice 'went to town', as they say, with that short length of rope. Evidently, she'd done this before.

"You couldn't have chosen a more perfect gift," I murmured to Mary Grace. "Especially today. She's been one big ball of energy since I arrived at work. I was beginning to metaphorically pull my hair out. If you'd have waited too much longer, I'm sure there would have quite literally been a large pile of it at my feet and I'd be wearing a hat for the rest of my days."

She laughed loudly at my apparent lack of experience in these matters. "Ah, the perils of dealing with children. The book is for _you,_ by the way," she pointed out with a grin. "Jump rope rhymes. You can teach them to her on days like today when the energy has nowhere else to go but out."

We both watched in amusement as she jumped and tangled herself in the rope, jumped and tangled her feet some more. She was oblivious to her audience and our struggle to contain our laughter at her clumsiness.

"I have some things for you, as well," Mary Grace continued softly.

I threw her a startled glance. "You didn't have to do that. I certainly wasn't expecting anything."

"Morgan." She smiled warmly, ignoring my discomfort. "Do you not know that I consider you part of my family? Both you and Alice?"

I was shocked and deeply touched at her admission. Of course, I knew Alice held a special place in her heart, but I'd had no idea she had similar feelings regarding _me._

"I took a chance that you like to read," she said, pulling two books out of the bag. "I ambled into a dusty old bookshop and came across two wonderful gems."

She handed me a brand new book—its pages crisp and clean, the front cover immaculate. _Sir Nigel_ by Arthur Conan Doyle. "That's new. Just published. It's about King Edward III of England. It just seemed like something you'd like. You don't have it already, do you?"

"No, I don't. Thank you," I answered with a grateful smile, and I really did mean it. I couldn't wait to see Doyle's take on King Edward III's court, especially since I'd actually spent time there in the mid 1300s. It would be an interesting comparison of fiction versus reality.

"This one is really special," she whispered as she handed me a pale brown, cloth-covered book, more like a booklet instead of an actual hardbound volume. "The bookstore owner professed an unusual interest in the topic. He had several of these for sale."

It was a rather amateurish job of printing and binding, and the title on the cover did little to help me discover the content of the book:  _Edgar Cayce: the Complete Transcripts._  Mary Grace obviously noticed my blank, puzzled look, because her eyes went wide with shock.

"You don't know who Edgar Cayce is?" she asked softly with barely contained excitement.

"No, I'm afraid I've not heard the name."

"Morgan!" she exclaimed softly, glancing to see if Alice was paying any attention. She was still jumping rope, more sporadically now, but she seemed oblivious to our conversation, but just in case, we kept our voices low. "Edgar Cayce professes to be a psychic. He has _visions..._ " Her voice trailed off as she waited for that tidbit of information to sink in.

My interest was piqued immediately. "Is that so?" I asked. "Is he a charlatan, do you think?"

"I don't know," she answered. "But everyone is talking about him. He's said to have cured himself of an ailment while in a trance, and in front of witnesses. I thought perhaps it might shed some light on Alice's gift, and even if it doesn't, it would make for some very interesting reading."

"That it will," I mused softly, caressing the cover of the booklet. "You can be sure that I will read it closely, and let you know if I discover anything useful. Thank you so much. This is an incredible gift."

"I have one last thing," she added, smiling. She handed me a small paper square, and upon closer inspection, I realized it was a wedding picture of her and Wills. "So you'll never forget Mr. and Mrs. John William Stanfield. I have one for Alice, too."

"I promise you, neither Alice nor I will ever forget you," I said softly. "No matter how long we live. This is such a thoughtful gift. I'll have it framed, and Alice's too. Thank you."

"You're very welcome." I stuck the picture inside one of the books and considered whether now was the time to ask Mary Grace something important, but Alice solved that problem for me, when she finally dropped her rope on the floor and crawled onto her bed in exhaustion.

"I have one last thing for you," Mary Grace announced as Alice collapsed backward on the bed.

At that, she shot back up like a spring again. "You do?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Get ready for the worst squeal of them all," Mary Grace whispered under her breath as she dug the last present out of the bag.

It ended up being more of a high-G scream than a squeal. Mary Grace had stumbled upon a small odds-and-ends shop and found some doll clothes, complete with shoes and hats, and even a couple of purses, that she thought would fit the doll she'd given Alice. They retrieved the doll box from the metal cabinet and immediately became immersed in the murky world of matching hats and shoes, coordinating purses and dresses. I watched for a bit, as I scanned the first few pages of both of my new books. As soon as I was sure that Alice was completely involved in her playing, I called softly to Mary Grace. She left Alice's bedside and joined me near the doorway.

"I wondered if I might ask a favor of you," I started hesitantly. "I'm afraid it's a rather important favor, and I will completely understand if you feel you must say no."

"Ask away," she urged.

"Because of my medical condition, I don't go out during the day, as you know. I had a young lady who ran errands for me, but I haven't heard from her and I fear that she may have either left town, or perished in the hurricane."

Mary Grace interrupted me before I could continue with the lie. "I'd be glad to help you. Consider me your new errand boy." She smiled eagerly. "So, what are we talking about here? Food, clothing, medicine? That sort of thing?"

"Oh no, I already have someone who delivers food and medicine for me," I interjected hastily. "This is more for my luxury items, mostly books and the like, and clothing, and occasionally a financial matter."

"Well, that sounds easy."

"Mary Grace! Look at this outfit!" Alice interrupted. Mary Grace left my side and returned to Alice and her dolls. I sighed in relief, grateful for Mary Grace's friendship. Without her, Celine's underhanded attempt to disrupt my life could have been successful, and I didn't believe for one minute that James and Celine had accidentally stumbled upon Miss Tindell. It had definitely been planned, and by the only person who knew of her importance to me.

"Alice, where did you get this?" Mary Grace asked. The change in her tone instantly captured my attention. Alice had fallen uncharacteristically silent all of a sudden.  Morgan, look at this," Mary Grace said, turning to me. She was holding something small in her hand, but her fingers obscured my view.

I was immediately at her side, and when her hand uncurled and I saw what she held in her palm, I froze. A cold dread crawled stealthily through my body. 

"Where did this come from?!" Alice stared up at me, wide-eyed and afraid. It was a ridiculous question. My growing fury was interfering with my reasoning. I knew exactly where she'd gotten the small bloodstone.I quickly amended my question. _"When_  did you receive this?!" Alice wasn't talking. "Alice! _Answer me!"_  Tears had begun to trickle down her cheeks. Mary Grace placed a well-meaning hand on my sleeve.

"You're frightening her," she said quietly. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I took a moment to gain my composure. "I apologize, Alice," I said, softening my voice before continuing. "I'm not angry with you. I promise. It's just very important that I know _when_ you got this."

"Wipe your tears, honey. Morgan isn't mad at you." Mary Grace brushed her fingers lightly across Alice's face. I'd never spoken that harshly to her before, and it pained me greatly to see the hurt in her eyes. "Tell him when you got it, sweetie."

"The night you went to the doctor," she answered in a small voice.

_Thursday night then. Three days ago!_

"I was supposed to keep it a secret," Alice continued. "She promised she'd come back and play with me."

"Who?" Mary Grace asked. I didn't need to hear the answer. I already knew.

"She was a princess, just like Asha. Her name was Celeste," she added softly.

Mary Grace was puzzled by her answer, so I felt a quick explanation was necessary. "While you were gone, I occupied her with a fairy tale of a princess from another world. She got very involved in the story."

"Aah, I see." Mary Grace nodded in understanding.

"Am I in trouble for telling?" Alice asked as the tears pooled in her eyes again.

"No." I reached out and caressed her cheek with my thumb and wiped away a stray tear. "I'm not upset with you at all. I'm sorry I was short with you. Am I forgiven?" She carefully studied my face and decided that I truly wasn't angry with her. She smiled and nodded silently.

"I'd like to keep the stone, if you don't mind," I added. She nodded again. Mary Grace gladly dropped it into my hand.

"You're sure you're not mad?" 

"I'm sure," I answered, smiling. She took me by surprise and reached for me. Without thinking I pulled her into my arms. The closeness of her body immediately inflamed my thirst, but the fury I felt at the situation was much more vicious than any blood lust could possibly be. It was surprisingly easy to push the longing for her blood to the background. "You play with your doll now. Everything is fine," I said soothingly.

She turned her attention once again to the box of clothes and her doll. Forgiveness seemed to come easy for her, or perhaps this was something common to all children. Whichever it was, I was extremely thankful for it.

I glanced at Mary Grace before leaving the room. She followed close behind. I could tell by her expression, she wasn't fooled one bit by my soothing words of before.

"All right. Tell me what's going on," she whispered urgently. "Is Alice in some kind of danger?"

I shot her a sharp look. "What would make you think that?"

"Morgan. I recognize barely controlled rage when I see it," she retorted. "Something is definitely wrong. You obviously know who gave her that stone, but I don't see the significance of it."

I wasn't about to go into the details with Mary Grace. The bloodstone was Celine's favorite gem. It had spiritual significance to humans which was exactly why she chose it. She held all matters regarding God and Jesus in contempt, and considered it an exquisite joke that she bestowed it as a gift to all of her victims. Each and every one eventually died at her hands, usually within several days, and their 'all powerful' god never once intervened on their behalf. I'd always felt the ritual to be despicable, like a cat toying with a mouse before crushing it to death underneath its paw. But in the past, I'd not interfered; I'd looked upon it as an eccentricity on her part. But now, with Alice as her intended victim...

"Please don't ask me to go into it further," I answered quietly, but firmly. "But you can rest assured that Alice is in no serious danger whatsoever."

"Quite frankly, I'm not sure I believe you!" she snapped sharply.

I took her hand tenderly in mine. If she felt uncomfortable at its coldness, she gave no indication. I fixed my eyes on her face, careful to keep my gaze just below her lashes. I wanted her to see the truth in my eyes, in the firm set of my mouth, and the tightness of my jaw.

"Mary Grace, as long as I walk this earth, no one will ever hurt Alice. No matter what I have to do to protect her, she _will_ be safe. That you can believe."

She stared back at me for the longest time before finally responding. "I believe you."

I released her hand, and she returned to Alice's room. As soon as she was gone, the fury took over and held me in its crushing grip. I snarled softly, my lips curled back over my teeth as I thought of Celine and her treachery. I was sure my eyes were blazing white hot with hatred. My nails dug into my palms as I fought for control.

I finally calmed down enough to relax and open my fists. When I did, a small pile of green dust drifted to the floor.

 


	25. Miss Tindell's Death Scene (alternate version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the spirit of Stephenie Meyer and her Bree Tanner outtake, I decided to share one of my "deleted scenes" with you. 
> 
> This is an alternate scene of Miss Tindell's murder. I sometimes write scenes like this in several different ways, and end up using the one that fits the direction of the story at the time. As events unfolded between Chapters 22 and 23, I decided to let Celine and James kill Miss Tindell together. It seemed to be a good choice and an easy way to introduce one character (James) while killing off another (Miss Tindell). Killing two birds with one stone. The following is the first way I wrote poor Miss Tindell's demise. As an added bonus, you will also see Morgan use his lesser power. It's a rather short, but disturbing little scene.

**~ MORGAN ~**

I arrived home to find Celine and Miss Tindell sitting side-by-side on the Chesterfield like two fast friends having a visit over tea. Their hands were clasped together across Miss Tindell's lap. Celine's other arm was snaked around her back. Miss Tindell was trembling slightly. There was fear in her eyes, but also curiosity.

"I have a new friend," Celine announced, smiling smoothly in my direction.

I inclined my head politely and smiled. "Miss Tindell."

I shot a meaningful glare in Celine's direction. _How dare you do something so brazen as this! And in my own neighborhood!!_ The anger started to build inside me, but I held it at bay. _Deal with Miss Tindell first. Get her safely out of here and then deal with Celine._

"Emeline and I have been having a nice chat, haven't we Emeline?" she cooed, pulling Miss Tindell closer. Miss Tindell nodded fearfully, her eyes silently pleading and confused. "Seems she's always wanted to be invited into your house and just have a pleasant conversation with you. And from what she tells me, you've been very rude. So, I invited her over for some tea, and wouldn't you know it? You're out of tea!" 

"I apologize," I said softly. "Celine failed to inform me we were having company or I would have been prepared." I crossed the room and sat on the other side of Miss Tindell. My gaze caught Celine's across her shoulder. The cruelty and joy I saw in her crimson eyes infuriated and sickened me.

"Emeline was asking so many questions about you. I told her... _everything,_ ” Celine whispered, winking conspiratorially.

"Are you going to kill me, Morgan?" Miss Tindell asked, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear. "I've been so good to you. I've helped you and I’ve never once asked for any compensation. I won't tell anyone about you. Please don't hurt me."

I shot a glare at Celine. Miss Tindell's fate was sealed the moment Celine had revealed my true nature, and she damned well knew it. I tugged on Miss Tindell's chin with my fingers until she turned to face me. "Look at me Emeline," I commanded softly. Her eyes found mine and I held them fast. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe with me." I tenderly stroked her cheek tenderly and lay the palm of my hand lightly on her neck. Her pulse raced beneath my fingertips.

"You're not going to hurt me?" she asked in disbelief.

"No, of course not," I crooned quietly. She tried to look away, but I tugged at her chin and held her gaze. "You're safe with me." I continued my soft murmurings, my fingers keeping a vigil at the pulse in her neck. She began to visibly relax, her pulse slowing beneath my hand. "It's all right. You're safe," I whispered soothingly as my eyes held hers.

When her pulse had returned to normal and her body was relaxed, I flicked a quick glance at Celine. She smiled and then gently pushed my hand away from her neck. I returned my gaze to Miss Tindell's eyes; they were calm. The glassy sheen of fear had vanished with my words. I took her hand in mine and held it tenderly as I waited for Celine to strike.

I continued to whisper comforting words to her even as Celine buried her teeth deep in her neck. Miss Tindell's body jerked as she instinctively tried to fight her death. I held her fast, the venom flooding into my mouth at the smell of her blood. The parched ache of the thirst burned my throat. I fought the impulse to tear into the other side of her neck—fought it with every ounce of strength I possessed. I had allowed Celine to kill an innocent in my house, but I would be damned if I would satisfy my thirst from it.

I watched with sadness and anger as the life faded out of Miss Tindell's eyes. Her body slumped against me even as Celine continued to feed from her. She hadn't deserved a death such as this. She was innocent, and the cruel way Celine had toyed with her enraged me. When her heart finally stopped, I let her fall away from me and into Celine's arms.

I got up and backed away from the sofa as Celine pulled her mouth from the wound. Blood pooled on her lips, purposely left there to torment me. She smiled as she approached me and flicked her tongue lightly at the corner of her mouth.

"Taste, Michael," she whispered. "It's wonderful."

The rage that I had been fighting to contain erupted. _"You stupid bitch!"_

Her eyes widened only a moment before I backhanded her viciously. Her head snapped under the blow, but she recovered quickly, and backed off into a feral crouch. "Such sweet words you utter, my precious Michael." She chuckled, and growled softly. "Come. Taste the woman who lusted after you so deeply."

"Do you realize what you've done?!" I yelled, my fists clenched tight in fury. "She was my connection to the daylight! She ran errands for me!"

"She was pathetic. Find someone else." She laughed seductively. "Come, Michael. Taste."

"Fuck you!" I hissed, my voice shaking with barely contained rage.

"You want it so badly," she said. "You hunger for it. Stop starving yourself. Come. Taste."

She very hesitantly approached me, one step at a time, stopping at each one to gauge my reaction. The scent of blood hung heavily in the air, tantalizingly sweet and seductive. Innocent blood. _The best kind._

"Just a taste," she taunted as she approached.

I hissed softly in warning as she neared. She halted for a moment, and then took the last steps that brought her body against mine.

"Kiss me," she breathed.

The ache in my throat was excruciating, venom was pouring into my mouth faster than I could swallow it. Her mouth inched towards mine. The scent of the blood filled my head and lungs as I began to breathe deeply. Her lips hovered next to mine, her scarlet eyes watching me carefully as she waited.

"Taste, Michael," she murmured softly.

I raised my hand and caressed her cheek. I dug my fingers into her face as I tugged her closer. I closed my mouth over hers and moaned at the feel of blood on my tongue. I licked at her lips until every drop of blood was gone. Gasping and shaking with the bloodlust full upon me, I crushed her mouth against mine, balling her hair up tightly in my fist and refusing to let her go. Even as our mouths separated and our harried breaths swept over each other’s faces, I held her fast.

Finally, I tore my mouth away from hers. "I hate you," I gasped hoarsely, even as my body ached with lust so heavy and thick that it was almost oppressive.

"No, you don't," she chided me softly, as her hands cradled my face tenderly. "You hate _yourself._ You hate what you are: an exquisite and beautiful killer. Embrace it. Stop running from it."

 

 


	26. Safe

_**Sunday morning, September 30, 1906** _

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

"Celine, where are you going?" I asked as soon as I came in the door. She was dressed to the nines, obviously on her way out.

"None of your business," she replied haughtily.

"Celine." I sat Mary Grace's gifts on the kitchen table and moved closer to her until only a foot separated us. "Can we talk?"

She hesitated, obviously taken aback at the softness of my voice. "Of course," she answered with a puzzled frown.

"I want to apologize to you. I've been very rude. I realize now that my behavior has been hurtful. I want to set things right. Spend the day with me." 

Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she considered my request. "Why this sudden change?" she asked suspiciously.

"As I said, I've been unnecessarily disagreeable to you. After all we've been through together, I owe you more graciousness than I've given you since you arrived. I've been denying my feelings even to myself. I've truly missed you."

"Is this because I'm with James?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Are you jealous?"

"No. I don't care what you and James do. That's your business." I hesitated for effect. "Although, I'd like to think you prefer my company to his. He _is_ a bit of a boor. I know you better than he does. I know what you like." I stroked her cheek with the backs of my fingers. "I'm lonely. Stay with me."

"Oh, Michael." She sighed and moved closer to me. "A man like you should never be lonely. I simply won't allow it." Her mouth hovered close to mine. Her familiar perfume filled my lungs and brought a rush of memories with it. "Should I go find us someone to play with?" 

"No," I whispered, our lips almost touching now. "I want it to be just us, just me and you, for the rest of the day."

Her lips grazed mine as her hands moved over my body in achingly familiar ways. I slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. The kiss was deep and intense and stirred me despite my loathing at what I was about to do. I fought back the disgust I felt at Celine's touch. Her hands tugged at my trousers and slid inside, caressing my body in ways she knew I liked. Our clothes gradually fell to the floor. We made our way slowly to the sofa. Her mouth was insistent, her hands urgently moving over my skin. She lay down and pulled me on top of her. I smiled and stroked her cheek with a softness unusual for us. Inside I was gloating. I'd outwitted her with her own weakness: me.

Because, as long as she was with me, Alice was safe.

I closed my eyes and summoned my memories of Asha.

 

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

I waited until long after lunch when I was sure the mean old nurse wouldn't be back. It wasn't bedtime, but I didn't care. I put on my new nightgown and took off my shoes. Stockings were quiet. I needed to be quiet.

I peeked out the door and looked both ways. The hallway was empty as far as I could see. I tiptoed out of the room and raced down the hall, quiet as a church mouse. My mommy used to tell me that: that I could be as quiet as a church mouse when I wanted to be. It used to make me giggle. I imagined myself with wiggly mouse ears, a long gray tail and pink nose. I wanted to giggle now, but I couldn't. Not yet. I hugged the wall, and made myself as little as I could while I ran quietly across the tiles. At the end of each hallway, I stopped and peeked around the corner, making sure no one was around. I made it to the stairs and pushed the door open. It squeaked, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, only stopping when I finally got to the top.

I pushed the door to the stairs open and poked my head out. A nurse was walking toward me. I ducked back in and ran to a dark corner. I squished myself into a little ball, and waited to be caught, but nothing happened. I poked my head out again and the hallway was empty. Just a little farther and then I'd be free! I took a deep breath and flew as fast as I could down the long hallway, all the way to the end. I had to make it to the end! I skidded to a stop in front of the doors. I peeked through the little glass windows to see if anyone was out there. There wasn't. Our balcony was empty. I opened the doors just a little and squeezed through. I shut the doors quietly behind me and then giggled. I was free!

The wind was blowing a little. The sky was full of clouds, but it didn't look like it was going to rain. I didn't care that the sun wasn't out. I was free! I was out of that ugly yellow room, and I could see things from up here. At least I could if I had something to stand on. I pulled and tugged on the table until it was near the brick wall of the balcony. I crawled up on top of the table and stood. Mommy would have spanked me good if she'd seen me standing on top of a table where people ate. I giggled again, knowing there was no one around to punish me.

When I stood up straight on top of the table, I was taller than the balcony railing. If I didn't look down, I could imagine that I was floating in the air. I could see everything! The grass around the hospital was brown and dried up, not like Mommy's lawn, which was always green. A little farther away, I could see water, and then more grass. Way far away, I thought I could see some buildings. I squinted, but couldn't tell what they were. And that was all there was to see: grass and water and the sky. But that was fine with me. It was better than baby poop yellow walls and ugly tile floors.

I looked all around, wondering where my house was. Could it be one of those buildings way far away? Was Mommy sitting in her garden right now, trimming her roses and thinking about me? If Mommy would only give me another chance, I'd never talk about my awake dreams again. I'd play with my toys and Puppy and be happy to be home. I'd never have to see Mrs. Filkins' sour face again, only Mommy's smile when she woke me up every morning. But then, I'd never get to see Morgan again if I escaped and ran home. Maybe Mommy would let Morgan come and live with us. He could help Daddy sometimes at his work, and he could sleep in the extra room at the end of the hall upstairs. I wouldn't have to go back to that horrible school. Morgan could teach me at home like he did here. I made up my mind right then and there that I was going to ask Morgan about it tonight at dinner.

If Mommy were here right now, she would have said 'puffy red eyes don't match any dress, no matter the color!'. So, I wiped at my wet face and tried to stop crying. Instead, I stood on that table for a long time, imagining me and Morgan living at my house with Mommy, Daddy and Cynthia, and all the fun things we'd do together.

Suddenly, I heard a nurse shouting and she sounded like she was headed this way. _They're hunting for me!_ I hopped down off of the table, and ran to a corner of the balcony far away from the doors. I balled up into a little ball like a pill bug and stayed very quiet. Nurses walked up and down the hall, but no one ever opened the balcony doors to look for me, and they couldn't see me in the corner unless they did. Finally, it was quiet again. I giggled at the thought of no one being able to find me. Only Morgan would know where I was, so I had until dark to play on the balcony.

I peeked out the doors and down the hallway. No one was around. I crawled back up onto the table, closed my eyes, and laughed out loud, imagining that I was flying back and forth in my wooden swing the back yard. Morgan was pushing me and laughing, too. Mommy and Daddy were smiling and holding hands in the rose garden, and Cynthia was sitting up and playing in the grass. We were all happy.

There were no straps holding me down. No small dark rooms to lock me into. No doctors with their silly questions. No mean nurses who didn't love me. Morgan didn't have sad eyes. And I never cried.  
  


* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

"Isn't it almost time for you to go to work?" Celine murmured in my ear.

"It's Sunday. I'm not scheduled, although I usually go in. I can be late, regardless," I answered softly, my words muffled by her thick hair. I lay next to her on the sofa, my legs thrown over hers, my arms wrapped snugly around her chest and back. I nuzzled my face in her neck and made a contented sound deep in my throat.

Despite my initial loathing, the sex had been good. Of course, sex with Asha had always been good, and it had been Asha's voice whispering in my ear, her hands exploring every inch of me, her body that I had joined with today, not Celine's. It wasn't hard to pretend I was satiated with pleasure. I truly was. The mind was a powerful thing, when it could make memories seem as real and urgent as the present.

"Let's go for a walk on the waterfront," I suggested a little later.

"That sounds nice."

"Let's get dressed, then. It looks like its overcast outside. Perhaps we can even leave earlier than sunset."

I disentangled myself from her limbs. She went into the small bedroom to change into more appropriate attire suitable for an evening stroll on the beach. I smiled at her receding back and took advantage of her absence to make my own preparations.

When she emerged, I was waiting patiently by the door with my gentlemanly smile firmly in place. She kissed me hard on the mouth and laughed deep in her throat. Her finger trailed softly down my cheek and along my jaw line. I made an appropriately suggestive noise, opened the door for her and followed her out onto the porch and into the quickly approaching night.

* * *

 

There was a slight breeze moving through the trees along the beachfront. The Spanish moss swayed lazily in its wake. The damage from the hurricane was evident all around us, although it was obvious that cleanup efforts were underway. The sky was overcast, bathing the sandy walkway in a dim gray light. No humans were about, wary perhaps of the looming clouds and the possibility of a inky black night without the benefit of stars or a moon to light their way. Celine and I walked side-by-side in companionable silence, keeping to the grass along the edge of trees that bordered the walkway.

"I've finally figured out this change in you," she said suddenly. "You've gotten soft."

I didn't miss the hint of contempt in her voice. "You say 'soft' like it's an undesirable quality."

"The way you made love to me today, it's not you," she continued. "Not the Michael I used to know."

"You don't like tenderness very much, do you?" I commented, already knowing the answer. Celine and violence were inseparable companions.

"I abhor it," she retorted. "Tenderness is weakness."

The gathering darkness cloaked us in silence. We walked awhile longer; our feet shuffling through the grass was the only noise to disturb the quiet night.

"Daniel wasted his time sending me here," she continued finally. "There's no fire left in you. The man I used to know was powerful and strong, cruel and merciless—a beautiful killer. You're empty inside now. There's nothing admirable left."

Rather than being offended, I laughed softly at her appraisal. She had no idea how wrong she was. "You asked me about Asha once. Do you still want to know about her?"

"Yes, I do," she answered, obviously surprised at my sudden willingness to share my past.

"Asha was the other half of my heart. She was the vampire who changed me, and I was her singer."

She stopped walking and faced me. One eyebrow shot up in surprise. "Really? I've never experienced that phenomenon personally. I always assumed it was silly nonsense."

"No, it's very real, believe me." I leaned against a low white fence that ran between the trees and continued. "She said she was uncontrollably drawn to me once she caught my scent. I left my family and friends and even a human fiancé behind to be with her. I stayed human with her for four years before I finally talked her into changing me at age twenty-one. We were happy, both when I was human and after my transformation. As vampires, we were living a lifestyle unheard of at the time. We only killed the worst humanity had to offer and we fed sparingly."

"So that's where you picked up your strange eating habits."

"Partly," I acknowledged. "But not entirely. Anyway, one day, without warning, the Volturi murdered her as I watched from outside our living room window."

"Murdered? My, my, my. She must have been a very bad girl," she said with a smirk.

"Unbeknownst to me, she'd had a past history of lengthy relationships with human men. Instead of killing them quickly, she got romantically involved with them, and of course, revealed her true nature to them. I was just the last in a long line of transgressions. Aro's patience had reached its end by the time we ended up together. Her continued flaunting of the rules could no longer be tolerated."

"So you weren't really that special to her after all, if you were the last in a long line."

I bristled at Celine's deliberate stab to my emotional heart. She really was a heartless bitch. I wondered what I'd ever found attractive in her. "Her past didn't matter, even after the truth became known to me. It had no bearing whatsoever on the happiness we had together. Her feelings for me were sincere, as I'm sure they were for the previous men in her life. She wasn't a superficial person." _Unlike you._ I wondered if Celine heard the unspoken end of that sentence.

"The day I witnessed her murder, the day all the meaning went out of my life, a rage was born inside me, a vicious hate and lust for vengeance. I knew I couldn't unleash my anger on the vampires responsible for her death; the Volturi were too powerful. So I chose the easiest targets: humanity. And of those, the weakest victims: women. I spent several centuries bathing in blood and fooling myself into thinking I was easing my pain. That was when you met me—in the middle of my insanity."

Before Celine could interrupt me, I plowed forward. "You think I'm empty now. I cannot tell you how wrong you are. Anger and hate eat away at you. They gnaw at your insides until there's nothing left. When you met me, I was an empty shell of a man. Everything of substance inside of me had been devoured by centuries of killing. I'm more of a man now than I ever was then."

"I don't agree," she argued, shaking her head in denial. "You are one of the most powerful vampires in existence right now, besides the Volturi of course. You could be a valued member of their guard, or even start your own coven here in the United States with Daniel's help, but instead you squander yourself in this godforsaken swamp! What in the hell is holding you here?"

I pushed off of the fence and resumed walking, purposely ignoring her question.

She laughed bitterly as she followed me. "I think I know. It can only be one thing: there's a woman in your life, a human woman. I've never understood this sick fascination you have with human women. I always felt like I was competing with them for your affections. My god, just fuck them and then kill them! Why do you always get yourself so deeply entangled in their lives?"

"You really want to know?" I asked softly, staring straight ahead into the inky blackness.

"Yes, I do. I've never understood it."

I stopped abruptly and pulled her back into the trees and into my embrace, close and tight. I stroked her cheek with my thumb. Her skin was firm and only slightly warm. _Vampire skin._ "I like the softness of their skin—the silky feel of it under my hands."

I ran a finger lightly over her lips. They parted slightly at my touch. "Their lips are much, much warmer. Sliding your tongue into their mouth is like holding your finger inside the hot flame of a candle."

She eyed me curiously as my hand drifted south and squeezed her firm, uncorseted breasts. _Vampire breasts._ "These are much softer in human women. To rest your head upon them is like floating on the gently undulating waves of a tranquil lake."

My hand drifted even further down until it was between her legs. I sought out her sensitive places through the fabric of her dress. She gasped as I whispered against the skin of her cheek. "Thrusting yourself inside of a human woman is like plunging your hand into a blazing hot furnace. The heat is so intense, it drives all reason out of your head." I grazed my teeth lightly down the side of her neck. "And the scent of their blood makes you insane with thirst and lust all at the same time. When you drink from them in that final moment of ecstasy, it's the most incredible release imaginable." I returned my gaze to hers. "Do you understand now?"

"They're so fragile," she argued softly. "It can't be pleasurable to hold back the violence in you. With me, there's no restraint. You're free."

"Celine, you're missing the point," I breathed against her mouth. "Restraint _is_ the attraction. Holding back and always hovering just on the edge of violence is very erotic." I slid the fingers of my right hand into her hair and grazed my mouth lightly across hers. My left arm was now firmly around her waist. "Keeping the ebb and flow of pleasure in balance with the desire to kill only builds the ecstasy until it's almost painful. When the release finally comes and their blood is sliding like silk down your throat, it shatters your mind and sends your body to an entirely different level of sexual satisfaction."

I kissed her and she moaned, her body melting against mine with desire. Inside, I was gloating once again. I'd maneuvered her right where I'd wanted her to be: snug inside my steel embrace. I curled my fingers tightly in her hair until a large clump of it was clutched in my fist. My lips hovered over hers, so that when I began to speak they lightly touched and tickled at the contact.

"You went to the hospital when I specifically told you not to," I whispered against her mouth. Her body instantly tensed for flight, but I was ready for her. I yanked at her hair bunched in my hand; my arm pinned her to my body in an ironclad grip. She wasn't going anywhere.

"What is she to you?" she asked, her eyes blazing with anger at being caught unawares. "She's just a child! She's a nothing!"

I yanked her head back and she growled in pain. "She's my singer!" I snarled, my jaw clenched in fury.

"So you're fucking children now?" She snorted bitterly. "You've done some pretty despicable things, Michael, but I never thought you'd stoop to using a little girl!"

"You're being unnecessarily vulgar. It's nothing like that."

I released my grip in her hair, but tightened my arm around her waist. I slid my fingers slowly forward to her temple. I felt a tremor of fear race through her body. "Don't, Michael. Please," she begged softly. "I'm sorry! I didn't know what she meant to you!"

"You wouldn't know the truth if it walked up and hit you in the face," I answered calmly. There was no need for violence now, and she knew it. Just the threat of using my power on her was enough to paralyze her with fear. "Maybe you didn't know she was my singer, but you knew she meant something to me, and you didn't care. You were going to kill her anyway. A mere child. She wouldn't have even satisfied your thirst. But of course, hunger wasn't the reason behind it, was it? You were jealous."

"So what are you doing? Waiting for her to grow up so you can fuck her to your heart's content?" She snarled. "Stupid me! Here I thought it was a _woman_ who had you so entrenched in this hellhole! It's infuriating that you would choose a filthy human child over me!"

"Not everything in life is about sex, Celine," I said, smiling sadly. She would never understand. I didn't know why I was even bothering to explain it to her. "Alice is my future, my hope at having a normal life after centuries of insanity and misery. I won't allow anyone to harm her, and you know I don't make idle threats," I continued softly. "You should remember what I'm capable of, after the countless atrocities you've watched me commit."

"Michael, don't!" She screamed and struggled futilely in my arms. "Don't! I'll leave town and never come back! You'll never see me again! Please, don't!"

I ignored her pleas for mercy and her pitiful attempts to escape my arms. I wasn't as weak as she and James had thought. Her strength had never been a match for mine. Tonight wasn't any different. _I warned her..._

With one quick and powerful maneuver, I ripped her head from her shoulders and cast it to the ground. The rest of her limbs quickly followed. In the darkness of the trees, I doused her dismembered body, and the torn shreds of her clothing, with kerosene from a whiskey flask I'd secreted in my overcoat. A carefully aimed toss of a match ensured once and for all that Alice would be safe. In a matter of a few minutes, it was all over and I was miles away from the scene before the fire alarm was raised.

I felt no regret as I walked into the peace of my small house to change clothes for work. Celine had gravely underestimated me. I no longer killed for pleasure, but _necessity_ was an entirely different matter.

 

* * *

  
Mrs. Filkins stormed down the hall toward me, her face flustered and red with anger. "Alice is gone!"

"What?" I asked, shocked at her revelation. I'd just arrived at the hospital and was looking forward to a relaxing dinner with her. Mary Grace, unfortunately, was off on Sundays.

"She's gone. Disappeared. We've searched the hospital over and can't find her anywhere. The day shift nurses lost the little heathen and now all of us are in hot water over it. If we don't find her, you can rest assured there will be hell to pay."

"She's here somewhere," I reasoned. "She can't have just left the grounds without someone noticing her." Suddenly, fear raced through my mind. Could Celine have sent James in her stead? "I'll go look for her," I added hastily with a growing sense of panic, ignoring Mrs. Filkins' protestations that every nook and cranny had already been searched and that it was hopeless.

What Mrs. Filkins didn't know was that I had an advantage: Alice's scent. All I had to do was follow her trail like a bloodhound on the scent of a rabbit, and she'd be waiting for me at the end of it. And when I found her—I said 'when' because any other scenario was unthinkable—she most assuredly was going to get a severe scolding for invoking Mrs. Filkins' wrath, but more importantly for scaring the hell out of _me._

As it turned out, I found her within minutes. Her scent led me through the maze of hallways, up the stairs and finally down the long hallway to the isolated balcony. I quietly approached the doors and grew immediately alarmed when I saw her. She was standing on top of the patio table with her back to me, her feet level with the top railing. Her toes were mere inches from the edge. One misstep and she would plummet to the ground and her death.

I gently opened the doors and stepped over the threshold. "Alice," I whispered, trying to be careful and not alarm her. She whirled around in surprise anyway, and quickly lost her balance. Her feet teetered on the edge of the table; her arms swung wildly as she tried to regain her balance. She let out a sharp cry of terror and began to fall out into open space! In an instant, I was crouched on the table, yanking her tiny body out of midair and back tightly into the safety of my arms.

Her cry of fear quickly turned to uncontrollable tears. "Alice!" I scolded her harshly, even as I crushed her in my embrace. "Don't you ever do anything like that again! Do you hear me?! Do you have any idea how close you came to falling? You could have lost your balance and no one would have been here to help you!" I continued with my harsh and scathing rebukes even as she cried uncontrollably and clutched at the sleeves of my shirt. "I should thrash you within an inch of your life!" I shouted angrily, tugging on her chin and forcing her to meet my eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed loudly. "I just wanted to get out of my room!" She buried her face in my chest and sobbed pitifully. "Don't whip me! Please don't whip me! I'm sorry!"

"God," I whispered softly, disgusted with myself as I listened to her helpless pleading.

To save her from Celine, only to watch her almost plummet to her death from this stupid balcony had served to completely strip away any sense of reason that I possessed. Here I was shouting in anger at her and frightening her nearly to death, and all because I was so close to falling apart myself! I quickly gathered my wits, and pulled her gently away from me. I pushed the hair out of her eyes and tenderly stroked the edges of her face. "Of course I'd never whip you," I said softly. " I'm sorry for even giving you that idea. I'd never lay a hand on you, or hurt you. You must believe that. It's all right. You're safe now."

I crooned to her and pulled her back into my arms. I held her that way, her body half on my lap, and half on the table, until she'd cried herself out and I felt the sharp stabs of panic finally begin to leave me.

"Are you mad?" she asked, her voice muffled in my chest.

"No, I'm not mad, and I'm sorry I shouted at you, but you scared me greatly. Please, don't ever do that again. Promise me you will never come up here again unless either I or Mary Grace is with you."

"I promise," she vowed quietly. She peered up at me hesitantly, her huge green eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears.

"What were you doing up here, anyway?" I asked curiously.

She looked down at her lap. "I wanted to see if I could see my house."

My heart broke upon hearing her answer. I gathered her up in my arms and stood up on the table. I held her tight, and together we looked out into the night. A break in the clouds had allowed the moon to shine through. It bathed the landscape below in muted blues. The water in the distance glimmered in its glow.

"Your house lies in that direction," I said, gesturing to the left. "But it's too far for you to see, even in the daytime."

"Do you think Mommy even misses me?" The uncertainty in her voice was heartbreaking.

"Oh, Alice, yes. I'm sure of it. Wherever she is, I know she's thinking of you this very minute. How could she not?"

"Then why did she bring me here and leave me?"

"Because she loves you," I said.

How in the world could I possibly explain to her the concept of putting someone else's life and happiness above your own? Of giving up that which you love most in the world because you know it's for the best? It wasn't possible. She was too young to understand. I wondered if I could give up Alice if I knew in my heart it was the best thing for her. No, I knew with a selfish certainty that I would never be able to make that sacrifice. The selfless human woman who was Alice's mother had more courage than I would ever possess.

"Let's get you back downstairs. Everyone in the hospital is looking for you."

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed with as much strength as she had in her little body. "I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't." I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "It's all right. You're safe now, and that's all that matters."

 


	27. The Birth of a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you continue on with this story, you need to read the 15 chapter backstory on how Michael (Morgan) met Daniel Hart. Since Daniel is getting ready to come into Alice's story, the information from this backstory will help you understand the dynamic between these two characters and his importance in Michael's life.

**Summary:** A chance meeting in a small village tavern in England in 1641 brings Morgan's (aka Michael) killing spree to an end, and changes his life forever.

 **Some background before you start:** Michael Golland (aka Morgan Grant) is a centuries old vampire. He lost his wife, Asha, a long time ago. She was murdered by Aro. Since her death, he has been on a 500 year killing spree as a way of dealing with his grief, since he can't kill the man who is responsible (Aro.) This story opens on the night of October 15, 1641, what would have been his and Asha's 539th wedding anniversary were she still alive.  


**[THE BIRTH OF A FRIEND: A MICHAEL AND DANIEL STORY](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8605543) **

 


	28. Indignity

**~ MORGAN ~**

I was carrying Alice back to her room when I heard the angry staccato clacking of Mrs. Filkins' shoes in a neighboring hallway. I quickened my pace as Alice whimpered and clutched at the fabric of my shirt. We both knew what that sound meant. I had no sooner deposited Alice onto her bed than Mrs. Filkins stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.

"Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again! Do you hear me??" Tears started to stream down Alice's face. Mrs. Filkins advanced toward her bed, her hands jabbed onto her hips, her face livid with rage. "Do. You. Hear. Me?!"

"Mrs. Filkins," I interjected. I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded, considering the violent thoughts that were swirling through my head. "Alice wasn't hid—" I never got to finish my sentence before she spun around like an out-of-control top and turned her anger on me.

"Shut up, Mr. Grant!" She whirled back around and focused her fury on a trembling and sobbing Alice. "Do you have any idea the trouble you've caused with your little disappearing act? _Do you??"_

"She's a child. Of course she doesn't," I answered hotly, my temper rising now.

She whirled on me again. "Do you have a hearing problem? Shut up or leave the room! You have absolutely no authority here!" She turned back to Alice, who was curled into a ball, her hair barely hiding her tear-stained face. "Well, let me tell you the trouble you've caused. Because of your little stunt, another patient died! She stopped breathing while we were all off searching for you, you spoiled brat!"

"Mrs. Filkins!" I shouted in fury. "How dare you say such a thing to her! This is an outrage! She's just a child!"

Mrs. Filkins turned and slowly advanced toward me, her mouth a thin slash of anger slicing across her face. "Get. Out. Of this. Room. Your job is hanging by a thread right now."

We glared at each other for several moments, while I decided on a course of action. Alice's loud sobbing and snubbing were the only sounds that broke the tense silence. Mrs. Filkins' threat was indeed credible. She could very easily get me fired, but I wasn't completely powerless in this situation either.

"All right," I answered quietly. "I'll leave the room, but I won't be far." I moved in even closer to her, and smiled inwardly when I sensed her body tense at my approach. "If you strike her, I can promise you, you'll never use that hand again," I said in a soft, but menacing tone. "And I'll report you for physically abusing patients."

We reached a silent understanding very quickly after that. I backed out of the room, keeping my eyes focused on Alice the entire time. She stole a quick glance at me through her tear-dampened hair, and I saw raw fear in her eyes. I shook my head at her and silently mouthed the words 'It's all right' to her. Her entire body visibly relaxed as I opened the door and left.

I stood out in the hall and listened, almost hoping that Mrs. Filkins would strike her so I'd have an excuse to vent my rage upon her, and get her fired once and for all. Then I was immediately ashamed at even thinking such a thing. Besides, Mrs. Filkins was much too wily to play into my hands that easily. It had been my experience through the centuries that evil people such as herself had an uncanny ability to continually escape justice.

Finally, she emerged out of Alice's room with a disturbingly smug look that immediately raised my suspicions. "I'll make sure that Alice doesn't leave her room without permission," I assured her.

"There's no need. You have your duties to get back to. And besides—" she said with a sickening smirk, "—Alice isn't going anywhere. The small draught of heroin I just gave her will keep her where she belongs." She laughed softly at my look of horror.

"You gave a small child opium?!" 

She chuckled. "Heroin is 'God's Medicine' and a very effective sedative. Don't worry, your little princess will be fine. Although, I don't think you'll be having dinner together this evening." And with another arrogant smirk, she turned and strode off down the hall, my eyes staring sharp daggers into her retreating back.

I hurried to Alice's side. The opium was already taking effect. Her sparkling green eyes were becoming dulled from the drug, her responses slow.

"Morgan," she whispered listlessly, her mouth barely able to form the word.

"It's all right," I murmured, stroking her hair tenderly. "Mrs. Filkins gave you some medicine. It won't hurt you, I promise. You're fine. Close your eyes." I continued to talk softly to her until her eyes finally drifted shut and stayed that way.

As I pulled the blanket up underneath her chin and tucked her Teddy Bear in beside her, I placed another black mark in my mental column directly underneath Mrs. Filkins' name.

 

* * *

 

_**Monday morning, October 1, 1906** _

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I had arrived home from the hospital just before dawn to find some unfinished business waiting at my front door. I was in just the right mood to finish it.

"Of course. Come in, James," I said as I pushed past him. He hesitated, apparently suffering from momentary shock at my good manners, but he recovered quickly, and hovered just inside the closed door, refusing my offer to sit comfortably on the Chesterfield.

I turned and started in on him immediately. "What the fuck do you want?" I demanded rudely.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned arrogantly against the door frame and silently studied me. "I just wanted to see how you're dealing with having a woman of _yours_ stolen right out from under your nose," James answered snidely.

"Celine is not my woman. She means nothing to me."

"Really? What a shame," he said softly. "I would have enjoyed watching you grieve the loss of her companionship and love like I was forced to."

"You're living in that fantasy world of yours again." I sighed. "The one where you imagine you actually _had_ a woman who loved you."

"You know damned well that I did!" he snarled, his fists clenching in anger.

"I am not going to stand here and rehash the past with you. I have much more enjoyable things to do. Just tell me what the hell you want and then leave."

"Let me rephrase, then. I seem to have misplaced your whore. I've searched everywhere. Have you seen her?" he asked, smirking once again.

"Have you tried Hell?" I answered flippantly.

His eyes narrowed. The tic was back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I bought her a first class ticket and sent her there personally." I smiled arrogantly back at him. The shoe was on the other foot now, and I had to admit, it felt good.

"You fucking bastard!" he screamed. "You killed her??"

"Yes, I did," I answered calmly. "The question now is, what are you going to do about it?" I was purposely taunting him. His constant presence in the background of my life was becoming tiresome. I wanted rid of him, once and for all.

He reigned in his temper and settled for growling at me between clenched teeth. His fists were balled up tight. The tendons in his neck straining from his rage, but in his usual predictive manner, he did nothing.

"Looks like you've suddenly remembered seeing me using my power." I chuckled. "That must be why you're an even worse coward today than usual."

He was exhibiting a surprisingly rare amount of restraint. Killing me was obviously the furthest thing from his mind, and I thought I knew why. I smiled and moved closer to him until our faces were only inches apart. "Are you feeling a little jittery, James? Is your cock aching so badly that you feel like you're going to explode if you don't fuck something very soon? Hmmm? Am I close?" I could tell by the split second flicker in his eyes that I'd pinpointed his problem precisely.

"Celine very rarely divulged the specifics of her... _talent_...to the men she took to her bed. That orgasmic bite of hers was addictive." I laughed softly. "You're like an opium addict trying to kick the habit, except that now, your drug of choice is gone. You've no option but to go through the painful withdrawal. My advice to you?" I laughed uproariously in his face. "I don't have any advice, I'm afraid. You see, I was immune to her power. I never had the problem you have right now. You're on your own with this one."

His eyes narrowed and grew fiery with barely contained rage. "I despise you," he snarled viciously. "There's no one on this earth I hate more than you, Michael Golland."

"Then order your thugs away and let's settle this right now, once and for all."

I curled my lips over my teeth in fury. Perhaps my goading had worked after all. He seemed to be considering my proposition. But no. His temper cooled as quickly as it had flared.

He laughed softly in response, the arrogant smirk firmly back in place. "I'm not ready to kill you yet, but I'm watching you, never forget that—watching and waiting for just the right moment, and I think you know what moment that is." Then in a matter of seconds, he was gone, disappearing from my house and my life just as unexpectedly as he had arrived.

 _Yes, James. I know exactly what you're waiting for._ He was waiting until I had someone in my life that I truly loved, someone whose death at his hands would cause me to suffer like I'd never suffered before. Someone like Alice.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

_**Monday morning, October 1, 1906** _

I opened my eyes and didn't know where I was. Then I saw the ugly yellow walls and I knew. I had a lump in my throat like I was going to throw up. I needed to go to the bathroom too, but my arms and legs were strapped down.

Where was Morgan? I saw the sun shining through the high window; it was daytime. Morgan wasn't here, and wasn't going to be here for a long time.  _I'm not going to cry._ I lay very still on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing I could play with my dolls, or color, or look at my magazines. And I really needed to go to the bathroom.

I didn't know how long it was before a nurse came and got me. She let me use the bathroom and then took me to eat breakfast. She took me back to my room and told me to lay down on my bed. I asked her for my paper dolls, but she ignored me and strapped my arms and legs down again. I thought about fighting her, maybe kicking and screaming, but I didn't think it would do any good. I wanted to cry, but I wasn't going to.

I stared at the walls and then finally went to my happy place, just like I did the first time I had to sit alone in that small, dark room. I thought only of nice things: Morgan, Mary Grace, Mommy and my sister Cynthia; roses, pretty shoes, hats and dresses; Mary Grace's wedding picture and her long, beautiful dress; Morgan's eyes, Michael and his princess Asha. I played dress up in my head. I pretended to go to parties, and weddings, and the park, and to church with my prettiest clothes on.

Then another nurse came and got me. She took me to the bathroom and to eat lunch. I asked if I could have my books, but she ignored me, too. She strapped my arms and legs down and left.

I tried to think of happy things again, but I ran out. Bad things that scared me or made me sad were all I could think of: Mrs. Filkins, spiders, Celeste, my daddy, pictures of dead people in my head, Morgan going away and leaving me, Mary Grace, too. Mommy trying not to cry when she left me here. My Puppy that I'd never see again, and the awful crying sounds that never stopped in this place. The doctor who pretended to be nice, but wasn't. That small dark room with the locked door. The little crack in the ceiling of my room that I'd never noticed before. Bad things came out of cracks in the ceiling, like spiders.

I had to go to the bathroom again, really bad, but no one came. I tried to sing a song that Mary Grace had taught me, but I couldn't. I had to go to the bathroom so bad that I couldn't remember the words. I really wanted to cry now. I felt the tears start to come. I tried to stop them, but I couldn't.  _Please come! I really need to go!_ I heard nurses outside in the hall. They sounded funny, like something bad was happening. I yelled for someone to come, but no one must have heard me, because no one came.

My room wasn't bright anymore. I turned my head and looked up at the window. The sun was going away. Morgan would be here soon. He would take off these straps and let me go to the bathroom. I just had to hold it until he got here. I tried to curl up in a ball. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad if I did, but the straps kept me from even bending my knees. The sounds in the hall were gone. No one was around and no one came. I looked at the window again. The sun was almost gone. Just a little longer and Morgan would be here, but I didn't think I could wait that long. It hurt so bad!

What was I supposed to do? I had to use the bathroom, really, really bad. I couldn't hold it anymore. I wanted to scream for someone to let me go, but I was afraid of what they'd do if I did. But, if I screamed, maybe the nurses would come and help me. But then, someone else might die if they did, and I didn't want anyone to die because of me.

_Morgan, I'm sorry. I can't..._

The tears started to come. I couldn't help it. I relaxed and let go. I cried as I wet the bed and soaked my pretty gown that Mary Grace had bought me. I went until everything around me was warm and wet. I tried to squirm away from it, but the straps held me down too tight. Finally, it stopped, but my crying didn't. Mary Grace was going to be so ashamed of me. _Young ladies don't wet themselves like babies!_

I closed my eyes and tried not to breathe. My bed smelled terrible; my gown did, too. But I had to take a breath when I started getting dizzy.

I heard someone fooling with the lock on my door, then it opened, but it was too late now. I didn't need to go anymore. I lifted my head up off the bed to see Morgan and Mary Grace burst through the door.

"What in God's name?!" Mary Grace gasped loudly.

Morgan's eyes scared me. They were dark and angry, and he was saying ugly words that Mommy would have put soap in my mouth for. I squeezed my eyes shut so I couldn't see them, so they couldn't see _me._ And I cried.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

Mary Grace and I arrived at the hospital at nearly the same time. We walked together through the halls toward Alice's room, as I informed her about yesterday's incident. Her eyes widened in shock when I related just how close Alice had come to falling from the balcony, then they narrowed angrily as I described Mrs. Filkins' tantrum. When I expressed my outrage at the administering of the opium, she finally relaxed.

"It's really not uncommon, Morgan," she said soothingly. "Heroin is used as a cough medicine and is considered safe for children in small doses."

"That's not the point," I snapped angrily. "It wasn't necessary. It was done just to spite me, with Alice the innocent victim. The woman hates me, and the feeling is quite mutual, but frankly, I'm getting very tired of Alice being caught in the middle of her sadistic manipulations."

"Neither one of us are in a position to do anything about it." She sighed. "All we can do is to speak to Alice and make her understand the seriousness of what she did. She's a bright little girl. She'll listen to us."

"Still, something has to be done to stop that woman," I insisted.

"I agree, but losing your temper will not help the situation. That will only play into her hands."

Mary Grace continued to talk, but I soon tuned her out. My senses were focused in the direction of Alice's room. The smell assaulted me as soon as we rounded the corner: the strong, acrid smell of urine.

"Something's wrong," I blurted out, running the rest of the way to her door. Mary Grace sprinted behind me. I tried her door, but it was locked. One kick and it would be splintered into pieces. I was raising my foot to do it when Mary Grace intervened.

"I have a master." Mary Grace dug in the side pocket of her dress and jammed the key into the lock. Meanwhile, the smell coming from her room was overpowering, and why in hell was her door locked in the first place?

We burst through the now unlocked door—Mary Grace first, and me right behind. Mary Grace gasped loudly. "What in God's name?!" 

An ice-cold fury rose up in me before I could think to control it. A string of vile curses flew from my mouth as I took in the scene. Alice was strapped down, wrists and ankles secured tightly against the mattress, flat on her back and unable to even turn over. It was obvious that she'd been ignored to point of having to wet herself. What the fuck had the nurses been doing this whole time?

"Alice, oh my baby," Mary Grace rushed to her side and started pulling at the straps, but her hands were shaking too badly to manage it.

"I'll get the straps." My voice sounded strange, even to my own ears: flat, emotionless, and ominous. But I was anything but emotionless inside. Someone was to going to pay for ignoring my precious Alice.

I worked quickly at loosening the straps while Mary Grace crooned to her and stroked her hair. She appeared to be ignoring both of us. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face streaked with rivulets of dried tears, and she wasn't answering any of Mary Grace's questions. Finally I loosed the straps from her wrists and ankles, and violently ripped them from the bed, tearing them to shreds in the process. I viciously flung them behind me, not caring what they hit or broke along the way. The crash of the porcelain wash basin barely registered in my brain, as I fought the rage threatening to erupt from me.

"Morgan. _Morgan!"_ Mary Grace was gripping both of my arms in her hands and shaking me. "Look at me!" I focused on her face, and felt my anger gradually receding as Mary Grace continued to talk to me. "Calm yourself. I need your help. We'll worry about who's to blame later. Right now we need to help Alice. I'll take her to the washroom and get her bathed, while you change her bed linens. Can you find a clean mattress?"

"I'll find one," I answered quietly, and I would, even if I had to rip it off of someone else's bed with them still in it.

I helped lift Alice into Mary Grace's arms, and then stepped aside.

"Poor thing. She's soaked from top to bottom," Mary Grace said sadly.

"I'm sorry." Alice was crying quietly now against Mary Grace's shoulder. "I couldn't help it. I'm sorry I got my new gown all wet and smelly."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Mary Grace said. "None of this was your fault. Now let's go and get you cleaned up."

After they left the room, I set about the task of restoring Alice's room to some semblance of normal while I silently contemplated the fate of those to blame for this indignity.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

"I've never seen this tub before." I was waist deep in warm water, in a big white tub with clawed feet. It looked just like the tub at my house.

"This is for patients who aren't able to stand under the showers." Mary Grace smiled as she washed my back. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I woke up strapped down. A nurse got me up for breakfast and lunch and they let me go to the bathroom, but after lunch, no one came back. I heard nurses in the hall, but they never came in to check on me." A tear dropped off of my face into the water. I wiped it away and tried to stop crying. "Is my gown ruined?"

"Of course not. I'll launder it and it'll be as good as new." Mary Grace smiled again. "You'll have to wear one of the hospital's gowns tonight, but I promise you, I'll have yours clean and as good as new by tomorrow night. Now let's wash your hair."

Mary Grace poured soap into my hair and rubbed her fingers all through it. It felt so good, and made me sleepy. "I had a tub just like this when I was a little girl," Mary Grace said.

"You did?"

"Yes, I certainly did. Exactly like this one. Huge, white and with clawed feet." I laid back in the tub so she could rinse the soap out of my hair. "Have you ever wondered why tubs have feet?" she asked me.

"No."

"Well, let me tell you why," she said, grinning. As she washed me all over with nice smelling soap, she told me the funniest story I'd ever heard.

"My mother was always busy with the younger children. So, she'd put me in the tub all by myself, with about as much water as we have now, and she'd leave me strict instructions to wash every nook and cranny on my body, especially behind my ears. Well, I was a somewhat naughty little girl. I didn't always do what I was told." She grinned crookedly down at me. "Do you want to know a secret about me?"

"Yes." I giggled. "I love secrets!"

She leaned closer to me and whispered, "I _never_ washed behind my ears, not unless I was forced to. I thought to myself, 'why should I wash something that no one is ever going to see?' My hair covered my ears quite nicely, so I saw no reason to worry about it, and Mama never checked."

I giggled at Mary Grace. She had been a naughty little girl once, just like me.

"Well, one night she checked."

"Uh oh." I giggled behind my hand.

"Uh oh is right. Just out of the blue, she came up the stairs while I was in the tub, pulled my hair up onto my head and said 'let's check behind those ears'. Then she gasped really loudly like she'd seen a ghost. When I asked her what was wrong, she said 'There's enough dirt behind those ears to grow carrots in!'.

I giggled until Mary Grace had to shoosh me quiet.

"So Mama scrubbed and scrubbed behind my ears until they tingled. I asked her finally what made her decide to check my ears, and I remember her laughing as she said, 'The tub told me'.

"Tubs can't talk!"

"That's exactly what I told _her,_ but she insisted that not only did they talk, but they also walked."

"No, they don't!" I laughed at the thought of tubs walking.

"Oh yes they do, Alice," I insisted. "Mama told me that the night before, after I was snug in my bed, the tub stood up on its little clawed feet and walked right down the steps to the kitchen. She said she just about had an apoplexy when it happened! She said the tub told her everything: how I never washed behind my ears, and sometimes forgot to wash between my toes. Then pretty as you please, it turned around and walked back up the stairs to the bathroom and plopped itself down, just like that."

"Mary Grace, you're silly! Tubs can't walk." 

"Well, laugh all you want," she said, smiling down at me. "From that point on, I made sure that when I was in the bathroom, I did everything I was supposed to. If that tub could tattle about me not washing behind my ears, then it could also tattle about how I sometimes didn't brush my teeth, or only gave my hair fifty strokes instead of a hundred. From that day forward, I always hung up my wet towels and washed my hands before I left. I wasn't taking any chances."

"Can _I_ grow carrots behind my ears?"

She pushed my hair back and peeked. "I don't think so. Maybe a tiny patch of peas, but definitely not carrots." She chuckled and scrubbed behind my ears until they tingled.

"All done! Let's get you out of this tub."

She dried me off and fluffed my hair in the towel until it was almost dry. She helped me put on the scratchy hospital gown. Before we left the washroom, I asked Mary Grace if I could take something back to the room with me. She frowned, shrugged her shoulders, and put it in my hand. She carried me back to my room in her arms. Morgan was sitting on my bed waiting for us. He got up when we came in. His eyes weren't angry anymore. They were warm, just like I liked them. He smiled at me.

"You smell very nice," he said, as he backed away from me and stood near the cabinet.

Mary Grace sat me down on the bed and fussed with my damp hair for a bit. Then she told Morgan she was going to find out what happened. She left, but Morgan still stood by the cabinet, far away from me. _He must be mad._

"I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"You have nothing to apologize for. Accidents happen to all of us. It's all right."

He couldn't be mad at me. His voice was so soft. But why wouldn't he come and stand beside my bed? "Have you ever had an accident?" I asked. He looked at me and then looked down at the floor.

"Yes, I have. Not like yours, but yes, I have," he answered. Morgan was sad. I hated when he got sad.

"Did you feel bad?" I asked.

"Yes, I did, and very ashamed of myself. Even though it was an accident, and I never meant for it to happen, that didn't stop me from feeling bad." He looked up from the floor and straight at me. "I understand how you feel, but when accidents happen, we have to try and forget about them and move on. It's in the past. There's nothing we can do to change things. Especially if it wasn't our fault."

I didn't want to talk anymore about whatever was making Morgan sad. "I have something to give you."

He was frowning now. "What?" 

"You have to come over here to get it," I said, grinning.

He stood there for a little bit, and then finally came to stand beside my bed. "All right."

"Hold out your hand." I smiled up at him as he held his hand out. I dropped my gift into it.

"Soap?" he asked. "Are you suggesting that I need a bath?" He was smiling now. I loved it when Morgan smiled.

I shook my head and giggled. I opened my mouth and pointed inside it.

"I don't understand."

"The soap goes in your mouth, Morgan! That's what you have to do when you say bad words. Wash your mouth out with soap."

"Really?" He didn't believe me. He was looking at me like I'd just told the biggest lie ever. "I'm not putting that in my mouth."

"You have to," I said, nodding. "You said a bunch of bad words." I frowned at him, just like Mommy did when I'd accidentally said a bad word one time.

"How about I just promise not to say any more bad words ever again?"

"Nope. Not good enough." I shook my head back and forth, slinging my hair this way and that.

"I have to get back to work. I don't have time for this." He smiled and went to lay the soap down on my bed.

I glared at him. "When you do something wrong, you have to be grown up and take your punishment. That's what Mommy says."

He stared down at me and frowned. "Yes, I suppose your mother is right." He sighed and stuck the soap into his mouth. He held it there for a long time, longer than I would have been able to. Then he coughed and pulled it out really fast. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"Thank you." He sounded bad. "I think I've learned my lesson. I need to see to my other patients now." He turned around and practically ran out the room. I laid back on my bed and giggled and giggled and giggled.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

I had just learned two very valuable lessons in the space of ten minutes: never again say curse words in front of Alice, and try to avoid being in the same room with her when her hair was damp. 

I spent several minutes rinsing my mouth with water and spitting the vile taste of soap back into the sink basin. What kind of parent would subject a child to such a disgusting punishment? I'd take a hide tanning over that any day!

I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes and waited for the dizziness to leave me. The scent of her wet hair, along with her normal mouthwatering smell, had completely upset my equilibrium. Dizziness was an unfamiliar sensation for me, and not altogether unpleasant, but the hot flame of thirst had flared up unexpectedly, as well. It had taken all of my control to carry on a conversation and fight the ache of hunger all at the same time.

I finally made my way out of the water closet and down the hall to my locker. I pulled out a thick wad of bills I'd kept hidden in the lining of an overcoat. I intercepted Mary Grace before she left for her ward and her nightly duties.

"I know you're thinking that Mrs. Filkins had to have had a hand in this, but I assure you, she didn't," she explained in a hushed voice. "The nurses said that a psychotic patient got loose from his restraints and it took all of them to get him subdued and back into his room. In all of the uproar, Alice was forgotten. It was a hideous, but honest, mistake."

 _How disappointing._ There was no one I could, in good conscience, rip to shreds. I sighed inwardly and placed the wad of bills into Mary Grace's hand. She gave me a puzzled look. "Buy Alice a nightgown for every night of the week," I instructed. "I don't ever want her to have to sleep in that hospital cotton again."

She sifted through the bills in her hand. "This is way too much money."

She tried to give half of it back, but I stopped her. "No it isn't. Buy her the best soft cottons and silks, maybe some undergarments, and a fluffy blanket. Whatever it is that all little girls should have, and Alice doesn't, buy it for her."

"That's so kind of you," she said softly. "But, you know, the one thing she needs the most is love."

"She'll have that in abundance. As long as I'm alive she'll be loved." 

Mary Grace studied my face, searched my eyes and then smiled. "Of that I have absolutely no doubt."

 

 


	29. Healing

**~ MORGAN ~**

The next eight days passed peacefully. Alice was on her best behavior after the balcony incident, and I was on mine after the soap incident. We'd all endeavored to forget the bedwetting incident and never spoke of it again. Mrs. Filkins was also uncharacteristically subdued during those eight days. She hadn't been kind to Alice or me, by any means—one could never call that woman kind—but she hadn't been cruel either. And with Celine and James gone, my life was back to normal, at least for a little while.

During those restful days, Mary Grace, Alice and I spent our dinner time reading. I chose a book that was especially appropriate considering events of the past days: a bored little girl wanders off and accidentally falls down a rabbit hole, finding herself in a wondrous fantasy world:  _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll. Alice was enthralled with the story, especially since the main character shared her name and her propensity to wander off by herself. Even at six years old, the life lesson was not lost on her. I felt confident that she'd never do such a thing again.

Some people find solitude and quiet to be an unpleasant thing, especially if it persists for too long. I, on the other hand, had finally found a sense of peace in my current life, a peace which allowed me many opportunities for introspection and reflection on the past and my future. Occasionally, loneliness still managed to creep in and settle down beside me on the Chesterfield, but that happened less often now, thanks to Alice and Mary Grace.

But as was often the case with my life, serenity never lasted long...  


* * *

 

 **Sunday, October 14, 1906 - early morning**  
  


I'd just returned home from the hospital and settled down with a book, when a commotion in front of my house pulled me reluctantly to my front door. I peeked out into the gray, listless morning to see someone I would have never expected to see in a hundred lifetimes.

"Michael!" Rhodes was smiling and waving enthusiastically at me from the road. "Come for a ride!"

After I got over the shock at suddenly seeing my oldest and dearest friend sitting in front of my house, I remembered where I was, and _who_ I was.

"It's daytime," I hissed through the crack in the door. "And stop making that noise. It sounds like a dying goat!" I imagined every neighbor on my street staring suspiciously out their windows to see what was happening. I had no desire to provide fodder for their gossip mill.

She pointed up at the sky. "Clouds. Lots and lots of clouds. Come on, it'll be fun!" More bleating noises as she pounded on something with her palm.

My only option was to give in unless I wanted every human in a two block radius suddenly coming to investigate the uproar at their local eccentric's house. I wondered why I even bothered resisting. She always persuaded me in the end. I shut the front door behind me and walked quickly to the other side of the... _thing_...that was now sputtering like a... I realized that I couldn't even come up with an apt analogy for the sound the thing was making. She'd already pushed the door open for me and was waiting for me to get in with a huge smile on her face. Upon sinking into the surprisingly comfortable seat, I immediately noticed her outfit.

"Your dress is indecent." It was entirely too short. I could plainly see her ankles, and if I leaned forward enough, probably her calves as well. They were very shapely, as I recalled.

She laughed uproariously. "Oh, Michael! These are called bloomers, and they're all the rage now. Every scandalous woman of any worth is wearing them."

We started moving forward as she chuckled at my obvious ignorance. I'd never paid that much attention to fashion. She knew that. I gave her a blank look that said as much.

"Bloomers. For the active woman." Seeing my confusion, she went on to explain. "This isn't a dress. Well, perhaps it is, in a way. The center is split and sewn into separate sections, one for each leg. They give women freedom of movement. Personally, I think they're wonderful."

I had to admit to myself that I liked them as well, but enough had been said about that topic. I moved on to more pressing matters. "What are you doing here, and why are we riding in a motorcar? We're vampires. We could walk faster than this thing."

She grinned and glanced my way, ignoring the first part of my question. "Just because you can do something fast, doesn't mean you should. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the scenery."

"Where did you get this monstrosity?"

"I paid a visit to Daniel and he loaned it to me." She smiled in my direction. "He's going to pick it up on his next trip through Biloxi."

I'd wondered how long it would take for Daniel to come and see me personally, since obviously Celine had stopped checking in with him. "Might as well put a saddle on a snail," I muttered as we moved slowly down the road. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"To the beach," she answered, and took her eyes off the road long enough to smile in my direction. At that moment, we must have hit some obstruction in the road, because the motorcar swerved and bounced and threw us to the side of our seats.

"Rhodes!" I shouted above the din of the car. "Watch where the hell you're going!"

She laughed uproariously, a bright and joyful sound that clenched at my heart and brought a smile to my lips. _Aaah, Rhodes. I've missed you, my friend._

"It's not like we can get killed if we crash. Stay calm." She grinned sideways at me and patted me affectionately on the knee, obviously taking great pleasure in my discomfort.

"But what if it rains?" I asked, eyeing the thick, dark clouds hovering above us.

"My goodness, are you afraid of rain now, too?" She was teasing me, but I didn't mind. It was so nice just to be in her presence, that she could have literally said or done anything without offending me.

Our conversation ceased for the remainder of our journey. Miraculously, we made it to the waterfront in one piece. Rhodes pulled the motorcar deep into the trees, effectively sheltering it under the leafy canopy in case of rain, which was looking more and more likely by the minute. She fumbled with something in front of her, and the rumbling of the motorcar suddenly died away. We sat in a silence broken only by the soothing sound of the ocean nearby.

"Let's go walk along the edge of the waves," she suggested brightly. Before I could open my mouth to object, she was pulling her slippers off and her stockings quickly followed. I stared in shock at her now bare ankles and calves. She followed my gaze and laughed softly. "Take off your shoes and socks, roll up your pants legs and let's go enjoy the water. I want to feel the sand squish between my toes, and the ocean breeze blowing in my face."

I did as she ordered. There was no refusing Rhodes once she'd gathered a wild notion into her tight embrace—never had been, never would be. Her enthusiasm for life was unbounded by anyone I'd ever known before. Although, I suspected that Alice possessed the same quality in just as much abundance, but lacked the freedom to act upon it.

As we walked along the edge of the waves, I broached the one subject she'd purposely ignored earlier. "You never answered my question. Why are you here?"

"Daniel said you were better. I wanted to see for myself," she answered softly. "And because tomorrow is the 15th, I thought you might want some company."

 _October 15th. Mine and Asha's wedding day._ "I've made it through seven hundred and ninety-eight Oct. 15ths by myself. I'll surely make it through another one."

"But it's different now. _You're_ different now. I can tell that about you already. That aura of hatred that used to completely surround you is gone. You're finally at peace with yourself," she observed. "Why are you here in Biloxi? Daniel says you've been here since 1904. That's the longest you've stayed anywhere. Why?"

"I'm working at a hospital for the insane," I answered, looking off into the distant horizon. "I'm an orderly. I help with the patients' most basic needs, and perform the worst and most distasteful duties in the hospital." I turned to Rhodes to gauge her reaction. She was smiling sadly. I knew she would understand, just as I had known Celine wouldn't.

"Penance," she stated quietly.

I nodded silently. Rhodes knew my heart. She knew that my serving humans, cleaning up after them, caring for them like helpless children was the only way I could think of to even begin to make up for my sins against them. But it would never be enough.

Our conversation took a lighter turn as we continued to walk together through the surf. We spoke of inconsequential things: current events, mutual friends and acquaintances and their lives. At some point, we turned around and headed back to where we'd parked the motorcar. By the time we were almost there, it had started to lightly rain, and we were holding hands. I wasn't quite sure at what point that had happened, but I liked it, and had no intention of letting go.

Unfortunately, when we arrived at the motorcar, Rhodes pulled her hand from mine so she could get back into the car on her side. I sighed softly in disappointment and settled myself onto the comfortable leather seat on my side. We sat together in silence for awhile and listened to the rain falling steadily and gently around us, the soft plops of raindrops landing on nearby leaves, and the whispering of palm fronds brushing against each other in the slight breeze.

"Where have you been since the last time I saw you? 1709, wasn't it?" I asked, suddenly breaking the peaceful silence between us.

"Here and there. Nowhere important," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders as she stared off into the dimness of the trees. "I never stay in one place very long. Too restless."

"Are you happy living like that?" I was staring at her profile, willing her to look at me, but she continued gazing off into the distance as she answered.

"It's the way I cope," she answered softly. "We each developed our own outlet for the grief. You went berserk and I became a nomad. If I stay in one place too long, I start to think and dwell on the past. So I keep moving, keep seeing new places and meeting new people."

"I'm better now, you said so yourself. Perhaps it's time for _you_ to change, as well." She'd only been back in my life for a few hours, and I wanted, more than anything, for her to stay there.

"Where have _you_ been since 1709?" she countered, completely ignoring my statement.

"After I escaped Volterra, I came here, to the New World, to start over. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I've made in my life." It was here, in the untamed wilderness, that I had finally come to terms with the demon inside of me. I'd strengthened my control, reigned in my thirst and completely changed my life.

"Maybe you need to settle somewhere, Rhodes, and start over."

She sighed. "The rain has stopped. We should be heading back before it comes a real downpour."

Without waiting for an answer, she started up the motorcar and made to back out of the trees. Unfortunately, the motorcar had a different plan. The wheels spun in the wet sand, but the car didn't move. I eyed Rhodes cautiously as she fought a silent battle with the monstrosity, but no matter what she did, the car failed to move anywhere except down. We were sinking further and further into the sand with each of her failed attempts to get the thing moving. Eventually, her silent battle turned into a verbal one as she called the car every vile name in existence. My eyes widened at the vocabulary coming out of her mouth, but I held my silence and waited patiently for her to ask for my help, as I knew she would.

She sighed in exasperation as her shoulders finally slumped in defeat. She turned to me and said in a small, pitiful voice, "Help?"

"What would you like for me to do?" I asked, trying desperately not to break out into unbridled laughter. "Pick it up and tote it home on my shoulder for you? Or we could always just leave the damned thing here and walk home. We'd get there quicker, that's for sure."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. "Daniel will have my head if I lose or damage his new toy, so just be quiet, stop that grinning, and give me a push, all right?"

"As you wish." I chuckled and got out, walking around to the front of the car. With one hand, I lifted it out of its self-made ditch and pushed it out of the trees. I got back in on my side and stared straight ahead without comment.

"Thanks," she said softly, a small smile finally playing at her lips.

"You're welcome." I laughed softly. "You know, sometimes new isn't always better. Horses never get stuck in the sand."

"But you don't have to follow behind a motorcar with a shovel, either," she countered with a laugh.

"Good point," I admitted. She glanced my way and our eyes met for a few moments. We smiled.

As we slowly made our way home, I thought about my life. In my own stupidity, I'd walked away from her once before. I made up my mind right then and there, that there was no way I was going to lose her again, not if I could help it, not if I could think of a way to convince her to stay.

* * *

 

"Michael, your house is..." She stopped and looked around my parlor combination kitchen combination dining room. She was obviously searching her mind for the appropriate descriptive word.

"Spartan?" I asked, smiling and finishing her statement for her.

She snorted and then laughed softly. "Spartan is cluttered compared to this. You don't have any furniture!" She walked around the small wooden table and peeked into the kitchen. The kitchen that lacked a wood stove, ice chest or anything else considered normal for such a room.

"No gas lights either? Gas lights have been around for ages! And God forbid you should get the new electric lights." She rolled her eyes and snorted in derision.

"Candles work perfectly fine and they never go out until you purposely blow them out."

"This is the 20th century. You're still living in the 12th," she said, frowning. "I suppose you don't have a Victrola either?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "No. Don't need one."

"But you need ten thousand books," she said, shaking her head in wonder at the walls completely covered in shelves.

"I have everything I need. I live a simple life," I said, shrugging my shoulders again.

I heard her mutter under her breath, something about 'a boring life', as she walked across the room and pushed open the door to the bedroom and looked in. She saw a totally empty room with four bare walls and no drapes on the window.

"A tiny kitchen table, a sofa, and...." She put her hands on her hips and then turned to me with an exasperated sigh. "...no bed. You have no bed."

"I don't need one."

"So how is this going to work? I'll take one half of the sofa and you the other half?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm willing to share my half with you," I answered, smiling crookedly.

"No, you're going to need a bed," she said softly. Her eyes found and held mine across the room.

"I am?"

"Yes, you are."

_Is she saying what I think she's saying, or am I reading too much into her words?_

She walked slowly across the living room until she was standing in front of me. Her warm burgundy eyes looked up at mine. "I've missed the man you used to be, the man you were before Asha's death."

"I don't know if I'll ever be that man again."

She caressed my cheek with her thumb, and pulled me to her. I was already moving in that direction myself, even without her help. "Maybe not, but right now, you're the man that I love."

The kiss was warm, soft and full of longing on both our parts, so unlike the desperateness of that day long ago when I'd walked away from her. Her body melted against mine like it belonged there. Her scent brought back memories of quiet evenings by the fire, laughter, and happiness.

We finally broke the kiss, but I refused to let her go. I held her close, our mouths only inches apart. "I've missed you as well. My life hasn't been the same without you in it."

"I'm here now," she breathed against my lips.

We slowly peeled off our clothes and drank in the sight of each other. She was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined, and she spoke the same about me. "Why did you plait your hair?" I asked, running my fingers lightly down the thick braid.

"I thought you liked it that way," she answered shyly.

"I only liked Asha's that way, not yours. I love your hair loose. Leave it unbound and free...for me."

She nodded silently as I began to slowly undo the braid. I took my time about it, running my fingers through her hair with each loosening of the plaits. When it was finally free, I spread her hair over her back and shoulders and combed my fingers through it.

I pulled her down onto the sofa with me. At first our lovemaking was hesitant and shy as we initially explored each other's bodies. Later, we gave free reign to the loneliness that had plagued us since Asha's death, and loved each other with a fierceness that left us both shocked at its intensity. No one would ever take Asha's place in my heart, but Rhodes came closer than any woman ever had. With every touch, every kiss, every whispered word, and every joining of our bodies we began to heal. Our love was the soothing ointment that finally quieted the aching wound that had haunted us both for centuries.

"I love you, Rhodes," I whispered into her hair as her lips moved over my neck. "I suspect I always have."

Her response was a deep kiss that reached down to the very depths of my heart. It silently spoke of her love, but more importantly, of her forgiveness.

"I should have never walked away from you," I murmured against her soft mouth in between kisses.

She laid a finger across my lips and shook her head silently. As she guided me inside of her once again, I felt my life finally come full circle. I was back where I should have been all along.

I was home.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

"Where is Morgan?" Mrs. Filkins was busy changing my bed linens. I'd had to ask her two times.

She turned around and gave me a mean look. "It's his day off."

"But he's always here," I pouted.

"I would expect the man has a life other than you. Now get up out of that floor."

I crawled up on the bed and looked down at my lap. Why wasn't Morgan here? It was getting close to dinner and he always ate with me. "Maybe he's sick," I said, as Mrs. Filkins filled my basin with water.

"Or just maybe he quit," she said with that mean smile of hers. "He hates working here, so maybe he just decided to leave."

"He wouldn't quit!" I shouted at her. She turned and glared at me. "He said he'd never leave me, and he likes working here!"

"Don't you raise your voice to me, young lady." Her eyes were little and mean. "Apologize to me, right this instant!"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Filkins," I mumbled under my breath.

She started to leave, but at the door she turned back and looked at me. "You know, Mr. Grant is a young man. It wouldn't surprise me if one day he met a woman, got married and left. You can't expect him to hang around here forever, especially not for a spoiled little girl like you."

She left out the door before I could yell at her that Morgan would never leave me. He'd promised! He said he loved me and would be with me forever! He wouldn't ever leave me! Would he? I tried not to cry, but after awhile I couldn't help it. It was almost time for dinner and he still wasn't here. What if Mrs. Filkins was right? What if he was gone?

"Stop that ridiculous crying!"

Mrs. Filkins came back into the room later carrying my dinner tray. She sat it on the bed and stood over me with her hands on her hips. "Eat."

I wasn't going to eat, and she couldn't make me. "Not until Morgan gets here," I said, sniffing.

She bent down and stuck her mean old face close to mine. "He's not coming. If he was he would have been here by now. Now, eat. Doctor's orders."

"He'll come," I said stubbornly.

"He's not coming, and I'll bet anything there's a woman who's the cause of it," she said, nodding down at me. "Men are all alike. All it takes is a well-turned ankle and they're off like a hound chasing a rabbit. So just forget about him and eat."

I didn't know what she meant. I just gave her my meanest mean look and shook my head. I wasn't eating until Morgan got here.

"If you don't eat, I'll have to make you," she said, her voice low and scary.

I closed my lips together really tight. She wasn't putting any food in my mouth.

Then she laughed, and it wasn't a nice laugh. "You're such a stupid little girl. Mr. Grant doesn't really love you. You just remind him of his dead sister, that's all," she said smugly. "Once he finds a nice woman to marry and has children of his own, he'll forget all about you."

No he wouldn't! That wasn't true! Morgan loved me! He'd said so! _I hate Mrs. Filkins, I HATE HER!_   I picked up my tray and threw it at her, screaming that I hated her and hoped she would die, as the awful food went all over her dress.  She slapped me hard; my head hit the wall. I kicked her and told her again that I hated her. She hit me again and I felt something warm in my mouth. I heard her yelling something, but I was hurting too bad to listen.

Lots of hands started grabbing me. I kicked at them, screamed at them that I hated them all! I yelled for Morgan. If he was in the hospital, he'd hear me and come and help me. I screamed and screamed for him as they carried me down the hall, but he never came. I knew where they were taking me: that little dark room that had the scary things in it. I didn't want to go there! I screamed for Morgan again and again, and kept screaming after they shut the door on me and left.

He never came to help me.

_I hate you, Morgan._

* * *

 

**_~_ MORGAN ~ **

"Do you think Asha would be upset with us?" I asked as I held Rhodes in my arms. We were entangled together on the sofa enjoying the aftereffects of a particularly intense round of lovemaking.

She propped her elbow on my chest and rested her chin in her hand. Her warm red eyes were smiling down at me with love. "No. Where ever Asha is, she's very happy right now."

I snorted softly. "How can you know that?" I still didn't believe in the nonsense of a hereafter where souls went to rest after death.

"I know that because Asha knew I was in love with you."

"What?" I asked, astounded at her revelation.

Rhodes nodded. "She did. We talked about it that last year before her death. Asha knew her days with you were numbered," she said sadly. "She wanted to make sure you weren't alone in your grief. She asked me to reveal my feelings to you as soon as possible after her death."

I stared at Rhodes in silence; my mouth dropped open in shock. Asha had known she was going to die and she hadn't shared that with me? I felt my temper start to flare at the thought of her keeping such a secret, then it died just as quickly as I realized what a strong woman my wife had been. I'd never suspected our time was short. She'd hidden it so well. So great was her love for me. _Oh, Asha.._.

"After her death, I wasn't in any emotional state to love anybody," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's all in the past now." She pushed my unruly lock of hair back by habit then settled herself back into my arms, laying her head on my chest. We lay together in silence for awhile and thought our own private thoughts.

"It's dark outside," she observed, chuckling. "Time surely flies when you're having fun, doesn't it?"

I glanced at my clock perched on a bookshelf in between some books. 9:26 PM.  _9:26 PM??  Damn!!_ I sat up abruptly, nearly spilling Rhodes into the floor. "I have to go to the hospital." I left her floundering on the sofa, her eyes wide with surprise and questions. I gathered my clothes from the floor and hurriedly got dressed.

"Aren't you off on Sundays?" she asked, frowning.

"Yes, but I usually go in for awhile in the evening," I answered, not wanting to explain further. For some reason, I was hesitant to talk about Alice. Perhaps the scare with Celine was making me more cautious than usual. Not that I thought for a moment that Rhodes would hurt her, but still...

"How long will you be gone?"

"I'll be back by sunrise at the latest," I answered absent-mindedly. I was too busy cursing myself for my negligence to pay any attention to Rhodes.

What Alice must be thinking! I'd never missed a dinner time with her. I'd been a little late a couple of times, but never had I completely missed one. I had a feeling she was going to be frantic, and would be giving Mrs. Filkins fits right about now. I had to hurry. No time to waste on useless conversation. I didn't even bother grabbing an overcoat as I headed for the door.

"I'll be here waiting for you!" Rhodes called to my disappearing back as I shot out the front door.

Good to know, but what was waiting for me at the hospital? I had a bad feeling...

* * *

I rushed down the deserted halls to Alice's room. No bumping into Mrs. Filkins or anyone else for that matter. I peeked into her room and was instantly alarmed at what I saw. Her dinner tray was laying upside-down on the floor. Bits of food clung to her bed clothes and were scattered on the tiles. The bed was in disarray. Something unpleasant had definitely happened, and I was to blame.

I knew where she probably was. I raced down the hallways until I finally stood before the isolation room she was in. I could hear Alice's heartbeat and could smell her scent even through the thick wood of the door. She was awake, but silent. No crying or snubbing.

I sunk down onto my knees and pressed my cheek against the door. "Alice?"

No answer. I tried again. "Alice? I'm sorry I wasn't here for dinner."

Still no answer. I could hear her breathing. She definitely wasn't asleep. So why wasn't she answering me? "Alice, talk to me please," I begged softly. I leaned my forehead against the wood and waited for a response. Nothing. I couldn't stand her silence. "Alice, talk to me, damn it!" I immediately regretted my choice of words and my tone, but my fear was overriding my rational thought.

"I'm mad at you." It was spoken so softly, but she might as well have been screaming it in my ear, such was the pain of those four words.

"I realize that. I'm truly sorry I missed our dinner. Someone I hadn't seen in a very long time came to visit me today. I lost track of time. I'm very sorry."

"Mrs. Filkins said you didn't love me anymore and that you had a lady friend and you were going to get married and leave and she said you hated working here and you only talked to me because I reminded you of your dead sister and that you were going to have babies with your wife and forget all about me."

By the time she'd gotten to the end of her run-on sentence, I heard tears in her voice, and I was furious. "Mrs. Filkins is a lying bitch!" I snarled loudly through the door. Almost instantly, I silently cursed my inability to control my temper. I growled softly, fighting the overwhelming urge to find the disgusting bitch and rip her to shreds. My fingers ached to do it and my thirst flared at the thought of her death's blood sliding down my throat.

"Do you have a lady friend?" she asked. Her small, scared voice pulled me back from my hellish imaginings.

I thought about lying, but quickly dismissed it. "Yes, but what I feel for her is completely different from what I feel for you."

She was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice but a whisper. "Are you going to marry her and leave?"

"No, I have no plans to marry, and I'm definitely not leaving Biloxi," I stated firmly. I wanted her to hear the surety in my voice and know that I spoke the truth. Rhodes and I were lovers now, but the idea of marriage? I wasn't ready for that step.

"I hate Mrs. Filkins," she said, her voice strong now and filled with as much certainty as mine had been.

"So do I," I said quietly. 

"Why is she so mean?" 

How did you explain evil to a child? "It makes her happy to make people sad." That was as close an explanation as I could come up with. I'd witnessed so much evil throughout the centuries, and that was the one truth that had stuck with me. Truly evil people enjoyed being evil.

"You're going to need a lot of soap. You said two very bad words." She giggled softly through the door and I knew I was forgiven. The size of her body paled in comparison to the size of her heart.

"I apologize, and as soon as you're back in your room, you can make sure I take my punishment." I was smiling now, even in the face of putting that disgusting soap in my mouth.

"Tell me more about Asha and Michael," she said, abruptly changing the subject as only children seemed capable of doing.

"All right." I smiled to myself again as I sensed her excitement even through the wooden door. We had all night, and I had a great deal to tell. So, I began my tale with a new part of the story:

"Michael and Asha had a very good friend. Her name was Rhodes."

 


	30. Destiny: a Daniel and Rhodes One-Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm inserting this outtake because it explains why Rhodes suddenly showed up in Michael's life, seemingly out of the blue. As you will see, after reading this one-shot, this was planned by Daniel and Rhodes. In this short story, they meet each other for the first time and discover they have common interests.
> 
>  
> 
> Historical Note: The Atlanta Race Riots of 1906, which are mentioned in this story, was a true historical event that took place from Sept. 22 to Sept. 26, 1906. Four days of violence that ended with an estimated 26-40 African Americans dead and 2 European Americans confirmed dead. Many establishments where Blacks congregated were burned to the ground during those four days.

_**Atlanta, Georgia** _

_**Sunday, September 30, 1906** _

“Too drab. It needs… _something_ ,” Daniel muttered under his breath to an empty room. “The damned girl is plain. No two ways about it. It’s not my fault Mr. Lyons named his daughter Kitty and that she also looks like one! How the hell am I supposed to paint a portrait of a cat and make it look like the daughter of Atlanta’s most noted attorney??”

Despite his mutterings, he was determined that the family be pleased with the portrait, even though their eldest daughter was a less-than-inspiring subject. As the early morning sun struggled to light the room through a haze of clouds and smoke, he toiled on. The sound of his brush dabbing against the paint palette and the canvas soothed his soul. Art comforted him; it always had, ever since he’d first picked up a piece of charcoal over two-hundred and seventy-five years ago and scratched a mark on the wall behind his bed. He’d gotten a thrashing from his father, but that hadn’t stopped him from drawing anything and everything that had passed before his eyes from that day forward.

A sharp knock at his front door interrupted his concentration and had him grumbling yet again. He wondered which city resident was stupid enough to venture out into the smoke-filled air that now bathed half of Atlanta in its acrid stench. Then suddenly, it occurred to him that it might be her. But no, it couldn’t be. It was much too soon. She couldn’t have gotten to Atlanta that quickly. He’d only managed to contact her through a convoluted route of messages passed from hand-to-vampire-hand a mere seven days ago.

“Stay!” His one word command to the floor was answered with a soft whine.

He pulled back the curtains covering the narrow glass panels beside the front door. He was wrong. It _was_ her. He cracked open his door to find the loveliest woman he’d ever seen standing on his stoop, glowering. He recognized her immediately because she matched Michael’s description to perfection. “Rhodes! Come in. Quickly!” He swung open the door just enough for her to squeeze in and then hurriedly shut it against the foul air outside.

“Daniel Hart, we finally meet.” She tugged at the veiled hat on her head, picking the hat pins out of her hair one-by-one as she spoke. “It smells like a clogged fireplace draft out there, or a really cheap cigar. What’s going on?”

Her hair fell down from atop her head and draped across her shoulders like a silk waterfall. He stared at it in wonder as he took the hat from her proffered hand and hung it by the door. He now knew why Michael had described her hair as “alive”. It shimmered against the green fabric of her dress like it was moving. He reluctantly pulled his attention away from it to answer her question.

“Race riots. Apparently, the whites in Atlanta don’t like the Negroes, or some such nonsense, so they each tried to burn down half of the city. Humans always seem to need someone to hate, don’t they? In my day it was the English and the Irish.”

She nodded in agreement. “In mine, it was the Greeks and the Turks.” She thrust out a pale hand for him to shake. “I’m Rhodes, but of course, you already knew that.”

Rhodes considered him carefully while she waited for him to take her hand. She had observed this attractive man from a distance many times during her travels, but to stand as close to him as she was now would have taken a human woman’s breath away. He was an incredibly beautiful man, well-built and extremely handsome. Michael had chosen his companion well.

He surprised her by jabbing his hands down deep into his trouser pockets with a playful smirk. “I don’t shake hands. You never know what they’re capable of. I seem to recall Michael mentioning that you have an especially interesting vampire gift. Something about forcing people to tell the truth?”

Rhodes smirked in amusement. “I don’t need to use my gift on you, Daniel. You’ll tell me whatever I want to know. I’ll just charm it out of you.”

She winked and then turned from him, sweeping her gaze over his parlor. The first thing she noticed was Michael’s portrait over the mantle, and then the assorted paintings and drawings that were hung all over the walls. “You’re an artist?”

“Yes,” he answered. “At first for pleasure, but now it’s my profession.”

She could see that he did well for himself. The room was decorated simply but elegantly in warm tones of gold and brown, with leather and wood furnishings. There was no doubt that a man lived there—a man with an eye for design and color. She was impressed.

Suddenly a huge ball of yellow fur bounded across the room and plowed straight into her. She yelped in surprise, but her astonishment soon turned to wonder. It was a golden retriever.

“Molly! Down!!”

His command was ignored by the exuberant mass of hair that was licking Rhodes from head to toe. She stooped down and was now eye-level with the most precious face she’d ever seen—a whining, jumping, slurping bundle of joy with warm brown eyes. She’d never been greeted so enthusiastically by an animal in her entire vampire life. They usually ran from her in fear. She wondered amid all of the prancing and playful barking why this animal was different from the rest. She laughed and ruffled Molly’s soft, fragrant fur in her hands, enjoying her unbridled affection.

“I apologize. Molly sees so few people that she tends to get carried away when a stray ventures into her path.” Daniel grabbed a mass of fur in his fist and tugged gently. With a soft command, Molly reluctantly ceased her lapping of Rhodes’ hands and face and returned obediently to his side.

“Why isn’t she afraid of me?” she asked curiously as she rose and straightened her dress.

“She’s different,” Daniel answered.

He’d searched for a very long time to find an animal like Molly, a companion who wouldn’t be afraid of him and who would help stave off the loneliness after Michael had left. It wasn’t until he’d come to the United States that he’d found the perfect affectionate dog whose personality reminded him so much of her human namesake. Molly had been his best and only childhood friend and had helped him through the worst part of his human life, and now this Molly was helping him through yet another difficult time.

Then he explained the nature of his vampire gift to Rhodes.

“I can sense differences in humans and animals,” he said. “I hear a hum around anyone who, for whatever reason, is different from what is considered normal. They also send a tingle down my arm when I touch them; the louder the hum, the stronger their difference, or as it turns out, their vampire gift. It comes in handy when choosing which humans will make good vampires, but it doesn’t work with vampires who are already changed. It’s how I found Molly.”

“You’ve changed humans using this gift?”

“I haven’t. No. I’ve never tasted human blood,” he answered shortly, uncomfortable at the direction the conversation had taken. He didn’t want to talk about that part of his life with her. The less she knew about his past subversive activities, and Michael’s part in them, the better for _her._ So, he changed the subject. He pointed in the direction of his eyes and smiled.

“Golden eyes. I feed from animals. Have from the very beginning.”

She grimaced but made no further comment about his feeding habits.

“Why don’t we talk in the study?” he suggested.

He led her out of the main room and down a short hall to his sanctuary, which was a combination study and art studio. The half of the room that had the two floor-to-ceiling windows was littered with canvases and paint pots, brushes and wooden easels. The other half was like the rest of the house: tidy, warm and inviting. A group of leather chairs sat snugly by a small fireplace, while a neatly kept elegant wooden desk hugged the wall.

“Oh. Dear. God.” Rhodes’ eyes were drawn to a large picture of a man without clothes, hanging on the wall opposite the desk. A brief glance at the subject’s face told her that it was unmistakably Michael. To her embarrassment, she found her eyes being pulled downward.

Daniel smiled mischievously in her direction. “You’ve never seen him nude?”

With her eyes still on the drawing, Rhodes silently shook her head no. Michael was also a very handsome man, and Daniel had captured him so perfectly. He was standing in a clearing with a forest of trees around him, but those details were indistinct. It was Michael’s beautiful physique that stood out in the drawing and drew the viewer’s attention. And what an extraordinary physique it was…

“Once you do, it’s not a sight you soon forget,” Daniel added, chuckling. “I first drew him when I was human and we hadn’t known each other very long. He was extremely uncomfortable, but he was a good sport about it. That was the first time I’d ever seen his skin in the sunlight. Unfortunately, the original drawing is long gone. The paper fell apart ages ago. This is the fifth copy.”

“You’re very talented,” was all Rhodes could manage. She pulled her gaze away from the wall and sought out the nearest chair, one that would prevent her from seeing Michael in his natural state. She’d never be able to concentrate on anything if he were within her sight.

Daniel followed her and settled into a chair facing her. His eyes were dancing with mischief. The scoundrel was obviously enjoying her discomfort. Rhodes was done with the small talk and figured it was time to find out why she’d been summoned to Atlanta by a man she didn’t know and had only seen from a distance.

“Why did you ask me to come here?”

Molly had plopped her chin onto Daniel’s knee. He aimlessly scratched behind her ears while studiously avoiding Rhodes’ eyes. Small talk was so much easier than what he had yet to say. But Michael’s happiness was at issue, and that took precedence over his own pain at the moment.

“I’m going to be honest with you from the beginning,” he said, gathering his courage and raising his eyes to hers. “I’ve never…uh…liked women the way most men do. Michael and I were more than just traveling companions.” He paused and waited for her reaction. When all she gave him was one delicately raised eyebrow, he continued. “We were lovers for the entirety of the time we were together. I have no idea how he feels about me now, or if he’d even admit to being that close to me if asked. We parted on very bad terms, and haven’t spoken since he walked away from me nearly two centuries ago. Michael told me that you confessed your love to him after Asha’s death, but he continually claimed that you despised the man he became after that, and wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted to meet you in person and judge that for myself.”

Rhodes shook her head and made a disgusted sound. “That’s ridiculous! How could he think that I despised him?” She leaned forward in her chair and focused her piercing gaze on Daniel’s face, so that he’d not mistake the truth when he heard it. “I never turned my back on that man. When he walked out of my house after Asha’s death, I was right behind him. I was there in Volterra when he talked to that bastard, Aro. I was there during all of the centuries of killing. I was there when he met you in England, and when he changed you in France. I followed you both to Egypt and everywhere else you traveled together. I kept a safe distance away, but was always close enough to be there if he needed me. How do you think he escaped from Volterra? I saw him captured and immediately started planning a way to get him out.”

Daniel was stunned, and didn’t know how to respond to her confession. Michael had repeatedly told him that Rhodes was lost to him, and now he’d discovered that she’d dogged his tracks the entire time. The woman obviously loved him deeply. Calmness stole through him and quieted the worry that had weighed so heavily upon his mind the last few years. He’d made the right decision in asking her to come to Atlanta.

“How do you feel about us having been lovers?” he asked hesitantly.

Rhodes fell into a thoughtful silence. She was surprised that he’d even asked her opinion. She probably should hate the man who shared her love for Michael. He was her competition, after all. But she didn’t. She most definitely should be insanely jealous of him for sharing the bed of a man she’d longed for since the very moment he’d opened his eyes as a vampire. But she wasn’t. Any other woman would be plotting ways to come between them, not wondering what had happened that could have damaged their relationship so badly. She couldn’t explain it. All she knew was that she felt a strange kinship with this man sitting before her waiting nervously for her answer. There was a deep sadness in his eyes when he spoke of Michael, a sadness she’d felt countless times since he’d left her. How could she feel anything but sympathy for Daniel? Michael had walked out of _both_ of their lives. If anything, they had more in common than not.

“Strangely, it doesn’t bother me,” she admitted to him. She smiled when his eyebrows rose in shock. “Did you think I was going to claw your eyes out? I can’t explain it, so don’t ask me to. All I know is that the thought of you two together doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the thought of him with that red-haired woman he met in England. I just couldn’t handle seeing him with another woman, so I didn’t stick around for that part of his life, I’m afraid.”

Daniel snorted in derision as the image of Katie, as Michael had so lovingly called her, swam in front of his eyes. “I assume you’re talking about Katherine, also known as the ‘she-bitch from hell’. She hated me and the feeling was completely mutual. Our lives fell apart after he met that red-headed shrew. Somehow the bitch managed to survive being bedded by a vampire, and then went on to die trying to give birth to his son. Matthew was the most precious soul I’ve ever known and the only good thing that came out of all that mess. Then we lost _him_ on top of everything else!”

He shot up angrily out of his chair and crossed over to the windows, looking out onto the deserted streets but not actually seeing them. Molly followed him and plopped down next to his feet, seeming to sense the change in his mood.

“I’m sorry,” Rhodes offered quietly. “What happened? How did you lose Matthew?”

He continued to stare sightlessly out the windows as he spoke. “I really don’t want to get into all of that.”

Nothing was said between them for quite awhile. Daniel struggled to gain control of his temper as well as to remember the purpose of this visit. It wasn’t to relive the past and all of its heartaches, but to ensure that the future turned out better. Michael deserved to have some happiness in his life for a change. When he felt calm enough he continued.

“Michael has suffered so much loss. First he lost Asha, and then Katherine—although I still don’t understand what he saw in her—and then his son Matthew, and then finally me. He lost you before he ever had you. The man is so damaged inside from all of that, but despite it all he has a kind heart, no matter what he says to the contrary. He helped me recover from something terrible that happened to me as a young boy. I’d been ready to just give up when he walked into my life that night in the tavern. Even though he’d intended to kill me before morning, he ended up giving me the strength to go on by just being kind to me and accepting me for who I was.”

He turned from the windows and met Rhodes’ eyes across the room. “He’s not that violent man anymore who just lived for revenge. He’s been in Biloxi for two years now. He’s working at an insane asylum, but of course, you probably know that already. I don’t know exactly what he does there, but I can only assume he’s trying to help those poor people who’ve been cast out like so much rubbish. The guilt over his past is eating at him. He blames himself for every bad thing that has ever happened to him.”

He strode back across the room and settled into his chair once again. Rhodes was touched by everything he’d told her. The thought of Michael having to struggle with the ghosts of his past all alone made her heart ache.

“From the way he described his time with you and Asha, I think you’d find him a very different man now. He’s not as light-hearted. He’s much more introspective. He can be very drab at times,” Daniel continued. “Very stodgy and serious. Sometimes he sinks into deep depressions and his moods shift dramatically. He’s very hard to reach when he gets like that. After awhile, I learned how to drag him out of those dark moods. I’d pester him until he’d smile, or I’d do something completely ridiculous that would make him laugh despite himself. Of course, it didn’t take much effort on my part. I tended to be rather silly in those days, as he quite frequently pointed out.” Daniel laughed quietly. “He called me ‘incorrigible’ more times than I could count.”

“It’s not good for him to be by himself,” he continued with a deep sigh. “Their anniversary is getting close and he always has a difficult time getting through that day. That’s why I asked you here. I can’t stand the thought of him being alone. If he doesn’t want to be with me, I’d much rather see him with someone like you, someone who loves him as much as I do. I want you to go to him. Be with him. Make him happy. Try to find the old Michael you knew from so long ago, and bring him back.”

Rhodes was stunned at his request. After everything he’d said, and after watching him speak of Michael, it was obvious that he was deeply in love with him. This wasn’t a superficial affair they’d had, a flighty relationship that had sputtered out after the initial excitement had left. This was an eternal commitment they’d made to each other. She couldn’t understand why he was stepping out of it and asking her to step in.

“Daniel…I’m not the one who should be in Biloxi. You’re the one who should be with him.”

God, Rhodes couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of her mouth! She’d wanted Michael from the very moment he’d opened his eyes as a vampire, but had kept her feelings hidden out of respect for her best friend’s marriage. How many times had she watched him and Asha together and wished it were her in his arms, wished it were her lips he kissed, her hair he ran his fingers through? And now, when she finally had a chance to be with him, she was hesitating.

“I had my chance with him and I messed it up. He doesn’t want me in his life, or else he would have contacted me before now.”

“Have you tried contacting _him?”_ she asked. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

Once again, Rhodes witnessed Daniel’s temper flare to life. His jaw tightened and his eyes burned golden hot.

 _“I’m_ not the one who walked out! And I am _not_ chasing after him like some love-sick, swooning female!!”

 _Aaah,_ she thought as she watched him try to gain control over his temper. _Male pride rears its ugly head._ She wondered how Michael felt about all of this. Did he still have feelings for this man? Or was Daniel hopelessly in love with someone who truly didn’t want him? Her curiosity was piqued by all that Daniel had told her. Plus, she, like him, couldn’t stand the thought of Michael suffering alone and in silence. It wasn’t a hard decision to make in the end. She missed Michael, and she was being given the chance to heal some very old wounds.

“I’ll go to him,” she said finally.

He visibly relaxed and sighed aloud. “Thank you. You don’t know how much better I’ll feel knowing that he won’t be alone anymore.” He rose from his chair and ran a hand through his dark hair. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go read for awhile. You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish, provided you’re in Biloxi by the 15th.”

She smiled at the thought of having an opportunity to get to know Daniel better. She suspected that a very interesting and intelligent man lay beneath his handsome exterior. Michael would have settled for no less in a lover.

“I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

* * *

 

She stayed for twelve days and Daniel enjoyed every moment of her company. She was indeed a lover of life and was always ready to try something new. When she discovered his motorcar in the garage beside the house, they spent an entire day with it. He explained to her how it operated, and she begged to drive it. After motoring up and down Peachtree Street several times, he turned the wheel over to her. She picked up the mechanics of it very quickly. They ended up driving all over Atlanta until his supply of gasoline was nearly exhausted.

Evenings were spent in the study. Sometimes she read while he painted. Other times they read together in companionable silence. Sometimes they discussed what they each were reading, or she watched over his shoulder while he drew, which didn’t bother him at all. He rather liked it, actually. But mostly, they spent those twelve days getting to know each other.

She told him of some of her travels. Apparently, in between following him and Michael, and then later just Michael, she’d ventured off onto several short trips of her own. One story that he found particularly interesting was her journey into South America in the 1850s where she’d witnessed firsthand the birth of a child similar to Matthew. Rhodes had been just as surprised to discover such a thing was possible as they had been when Katherine had gotten pregnant with Michael’s child. It comforted Daniel in some small measure to know that Matthew hadn’t been an isolated aberration of the vampire world. There had been others like him. He hadn’t been a freak, but had instead been a species all his own. It saddened him that neither he, nor Michael, had realized that at the time. They could have answered more of Matthew’s questions if they’d known, or perhaps could have prevented his death.

“Did you know he was involved in…what was the name of that war that you had here not long ago?” she asked.

“The War Between the States?” Daniel provided.

“Yes. That one. I watched him follow the troops from battlefield to battlefield until I finally grew tired of all the killing and left. I have no idea what he was doing, but he was involved in it somehow.”

Daniel pondered that one for a few moments but couldn’t provide an answer either. Why would Michael gravitate to a war when he’d spent centuries trying to avoid that kind of violence? It was a mystery neither one of them could figure out.

In return, Daniel told her of his childhood—leaving out the incident with Samuel—of his best friend Molly, and some of the details of what had happened between him and Michael during that time, including the story of how Michael had nursed him to health after an injury.

“He’s a horrible nurse.” Daniel chuckled. “Very grouchy and impatient.”

Rhodes laughed at the thought of Michael playing nursemaid to Daniel. She imagined that Daniel would have made an equally horrible patient. She wondered how they’d managed to survive it without killing each other.

“And did you know that he climbed to the very top of the Great Pyramid?” Daniel asked.

Rhodes was shocked out of her shoes as Daniel related the story of how he’d challenged Michael to a race to see who could get to the top of the pyramid first. She couldn’t imagine him being party to such a stunt. Only someone as outrageous as Daniel could have gotten him to do it. She smiled to herself, thinking how perfect this man was for Michael, and then immediately grew sad at the thought of them being so bitterly estranged. But she kept her thoughts and questions about their relationship to herself. Perhaps she could find out the details from Michael later.

“He lost, by the way,” Daniel said, laughing at the memory of that day. “I was still a newborn, a lot stronger and faster than him. Oh, but it killed him to lose to me. He always thought because he was smaller than me that he should be quicker.”

And so the hours flew by as they traded stories of their pasts. Daniel learned a great deal more about the man he loved from listening to Rhodes’ tales. Michael had related some of them, but many he heard for the first time from her.

On the day before she was to leave for Biloxi, Daniel felt comfortable enough to approach her with a request; an idea that had been stewing in his mind for days.

“Would you pose for me?”

Her eyelashes fluttered and she seemed at a loss for words for a few moments. Her hand flew to her hair and coils of the brown silk threaded around her fingers as he waited for her answer. He smiled to himself at the knowledge that she was actually hesitant about the whole idea. _So much like Michael…_

“I suppose,” she answered nervously. “What do I have to do?”

“Just take off your clothes and I’ll do the rest. I’ll pose you the way I want you.”

He grinned when her mouth dropped open. He’d anticipated her reaction and was prepared for it.

“Take off my clothes? Why??”

“Your clothing, while quite stylish, doesn’t interest me. The natural human form is much more beautiful than any garment made by a mere man. I have a great suspicion that what lies underneath your gown is quite lovely. Artistically speaking,” he added quickly.

“Uh…” Rhodes didn’t know what to say. He’d completely yanked the rug out from under her with his request. She wouldn’t have minded posing for him, but nude?? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Daniel smiled in understanding. “I assure you that my desire to see your body is purely artistic in nature. The female anatomy doesn’t interest me in a sexual way at all. I prefer a well-endowed male, as you already know.” He smiled and winked.

Well, that just made Rhodes feel ever so much better. How nice to know that her body was uninteresting! She had to admit that this was a first for her. In all her years of living, never had she met a man who didn’t at least have a tiny bit of interest in her slender curves or shapely calves. _Hmmmph!_ She suddenly felt quite the frump and was determined to prove him wrong. Perhaps she would be the woman to shatter his aversion to females.

Rhodes stood and started to undo her clothing, but the problem was that the buttons were in the back. She sighed and turned her back to him. He laughed softly and loosened them all for her. While she was peeling off her gown, he moved the furniture out of the way and hung a dark cloth on the wall. He pulled the drapes closed over the massive windows at the other end of the room. He extinguished all of the electric lights in the room except for a tall lamp, which he placed behind her and off to the side.

By the time he was done arranging the room, Rhodes had removed everything except for her undergarments. She noticed his paper was now lying on the floor at his feet, along with a thin box of sharpened charcoals. He stood before her waiting for her to finish undressing, and the scamp was smiling crookedly at her, his eyes dancing with delight over her discomfort.

“Those bloomers and stays aren’t nailed down are they?” he asked, grinning.

Scowling, she stripped off her silk underwear and peeled off her stays. She stood before him in all of her naked feminine glory and allowed him to inspect her. She watched as his golden eyes moved slowly over every inch of her body. It was the strangest feeling. She’d never had a man look at her so closely who wasn’t also planning how to get underneath her skirts. When he’d apparently finished his inspection he was smiling. Beaming would have been a better word.

“You’re smiling,” Rhodes commented smugly. “I thought you weren’t interested in a woman’s body?”

He laughed beneath his breath. “I’m not, but Michael is.” He shook his head in silent appreciation. “You’re going to make him a very happy man.”

Before she could come up with a suitable response he got down to the business at hand and instructed her to sit in the floor. It was the professional artist now, not the man Daniel Hart, who gently pulled one of her legs back toward her body until her foot was propped up underneath her rump. He bent and lifted her other leg until her knee was close to her breasts, her heel resting on her other knee. One arm he placed behind her back, and the other he brought to the front, and draped it between her thighs so that her most private area was covered.

“I feel like I’m being braided into a plait,” she complained. “I thought maybe you’d want to draw my face first.”

He smiled at her half-hearted grumpiness. “I’ll draw your face later.”

What Rhodes would never know was that he wasn’t doing this for his own satisfaction. Artistic interpretation of the female form didn’t have anything to do with this sitting. This picture was for Michael. Maybe he’d never see it, but Daniel felt compelled to draw her, and in such a way that would give him the most pleasure. And since he knew the man almost as well as he knew himself, he knew exactly how to pose her.

“Now, I want you to drop your forehead onto your knee,” he instructed.

She frowned but did as he asked. He gathered her hair from behind her back and brought it forward. He finger-combed it until he got it to look exactly how he wanted it. When he was finished, her face was completely hidden, as he had wanted it to be. Michael loved her hair, so it was going be the focal point of the entire drawing. Her nudity was secondary to the beautiful cascade of brown silk that now draped both sides of her raised leg.

“This is really strange,” she muttered, her voice muffled behind her curtain of hair. “What’s the point of posing nude if everything is hidden? Did my breasts not meet your lofty artistic standards?”

Daniel laughed as he did a rough sketch of her basic body shape on his paper. “Your breasts are quite satisfactory. They’re just not important.”

“I’m taking that as an insult,” she huffed.

He smiled to himself. “Please try not to move.” Lighting was important when working with charcoals, and any shift in position could change the shadows on a human form dramatically.

“So, you don’t have any interest in what you see? Not even a little bit?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

“No stirrings? No tingles below your waist?”

He laughed. “Not even the tiniest of tingles. As an artist I appreciate the beauty of the female body, but my cock is not impressed at all.”

Her hair rippled as laughter shook her body. “You are an amusing man, Daniel Hart. I thought it would be easy to despise you, but I find that task to be impossible.”

He was glad to hear that. He worked in silence, defining the areas where the light reflected off of her pale skin. She truly was a very beautiful woman. He wondered how Michael had resisted her for so long. Daniel knew from listening to his stories of the past that he’d lusted after Rhodes for a very long time. And of course, with Michael being Michael, he’d been consumed with guilt over his feelings.

“Doesn’t it bother you that I’ll be…that Michael and I will probably end up…?” She stopped mid sentence, but he knew her meaning. Would it bother him that she and Michael would most likely end up in bed together?

“It does…a little,” he admitted. “But I’ll deal with it. Like I said before, if it’s not to be me, I’d rather it be you.”

It didn’t take him long to get a basic sketch of her form along with the shadows that would define her feminine shape. He’d fill in the details later. Then he asked her to raise her head. He scooted closer and sketched out a close-up of her face on another paper. When he had enough to work with, he told her she could get dressed.

“Wait. You’re not going to draw me from the front like you did Michael?”

“I hadn’t planned on it. No.” He started gathering his papers together, but noticed that she was making no move to put on her clothes.

“Why not?”

“Because with you, Rhodes, less is more.”

Daniel settled back onto the floor, casually draped his forearm over his raised knee and considered her. She was sporting a confused frown, and had apparently forgotten that she was completely nude. She had sat back on her heels and was facing him now, her breasts in full view, her hands planted on her hips, and her thighs parted just enough to give him a pleasant view if he’d wanted it.

“Less is more?? What the hell does that mean?” Then she waved her hand and huffed. “Never mind. I know what it means. But you sure didn’t apply that same artistic principle to Michael!”

Daniel grinned widely. “With Michael, more is better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She made a loud sound of disgust. “So you’re saying this—“ She waved her hand over her nude body. “—isn’t worth drawing?”

He sighed. “I didn’t say that. I simply meant that the less of your body that shows, the more sensual you are.”

To Daniel’s dismay, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You think I’m sensual? Well, that’s progress.”

He rose from the floor and scooped up his papers, chuckling to himself. “Get dressed. Your intentional or unintentional attempt to seduce me isn’t working.” He never understood why women always felt compelled to test his sexuality, and it always seemed to be the attractive ones who were the most determined.

She grabbed her clothing up into a bundle and clutched it against the front of her body. “I think I’ll just change into my dressing gown.” She turned toward the hallway that led to the back bedrooms, giving him an unobstructed view of her bare and shapely bottom. Over her shoulder she asked, “You really feel nothing when you look at my ass?”

“No. Sorry,” he said with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. “But Michael is going to love that arse. Trust me.”

She laughed and then disappeared down the hall and into one of the guest rooms.

When all was said and done, Daniel decided that he liked Rhodes immensely. She was fun and a very warm person, which was exactly what Michael needed. If Daniel couldn’t be with Michael, he could think of no one better to take his place than her.

* * *

_**Friday, October 12, 1906** _

“Be gentle with him, Rhodes, or I’ll never forgive you. Don’t you dare hurt him! No dents, no scratches, and especially no crashing into trees! Make sure to pull the roof back if it looks like rain, and check the air in the tires every time you take him out.”

Rhodes was standing just inside his open door, packed and ready to head to Biloxi in his motor car. “For a moment there, I thought you were talking about Michael.” She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take precious care of both of your men.”

Rhodes took one last look around the room, and was surprised at the sadness that welled up inside of her at the thought of leaving. She’d enjoyed her stay. Daniel was fun and charming, and it had been so refreshing to be with a man who hadn’t spent their entire time together trying to bed her. Two people who were in love with the same man had managed to become friends over the space of twelve days. The irony of the situation was not lost on her.

“Do you want me to give him your regards?” she asked. “Or give him your address?”

“No,” Daniel answered, struggling to keep the sadness out of his voice. “He knows I’m in Atlanta. He could have already contacted me if he’d wanted to. This is _your_ time with him. Just don’t mess it up like I did.”

Molly whined and nudged up against Rhodes’ leg. She squatted down and ruffled the dog’s fur in her hands. After being subjected to an untold number of licks to her face and hands, Rhodes reluctantly pulled away and stood to face Daniel. “I’m going to miss her,” she said, referring to Molly. “And…I’m going to miss you as well.”

Before he could react, Rhodes had him in a bear hug. He sighed with regret and hugged her back. She had been great company for the short time she’d been there. He was going to miss her, too.

She sighed. “Well, I guess I’d better go if I’m going to make it to Michael’s by the 15th.”

They said their last goodbyes and Daniel shut the door to a quiet house again. He sank down onto the parlor sofa, and patted the cushion beside him. Molly wagged her tail and with a great leap she joined him, curling up against his side and settling down to sleep with a soft ‘huff’. Daniel lovingly stroked her silky fur while staring at Michael’s portrait over the mantle.

“Molly,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on Michael’s charcoal face. “I suddenly have this very strong premonition that I can’t explain.”

Molly groaned low in her throat at hearing her name. She raised her head and Daniel looked down into her brown eyes. It was as if she were waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t know how I know this, but…”

He hesitated, and then turned his gaze back to Michael’s face.

“…the three of us—me, Michael and Rhodes—are each other’s destiny.”

 

 

**RHODES POSING FOR DANIEL**

 


	31. Threats

**~ MORGAN ~**

"Her name was Rhodes? That's a funny name." Alice's muffled giggle filtered through the inches of hardwood separating us.

"She hated her other names, so she went by her last name," I explained, smiling to myself as I remembered back to the occasion that I'd first learned her real name:

 

  
_"Can you repeat that, Rhodes? Or maybe if you spelled it for me that would help."_

_I was desperately trying not to laugh, as I knew it was grossly impolite. To make fun of another person's name, the name their blessed mother had given them upon their arrival into this world, was the height of bad manners. But even Asha was stifling a grin as she watched our exchange._

_"You heard me the first time, and I'm NOT spelling it!" Rhodes was scowling furiously at me from across the room._

_"I think you're being too sensitive. It's a rather fetching name.  Different, to be sure, but it's very exotic," I commented with just the hint of a smile._

_She shot a murderous glare at me. "If you **ever** call me by either of those names, Michael..." She left the threat unfinished._

_"What will you do?" I asked, taunting her like the stupidly naive human male that I presently was. "I'm just a weak and helpless man, and no match for your vampire strength. Would you really harm me for a mere innocent slip of the tongue?"_

_I was only teasing her, but I wasn't prepared for her reaction. Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the floor, her beautiful and angry face hovering over me, her wild hair forming a living curtain around my body. She was straddling my legs, and it felt like the weight of a hundred logs pinning me down. Her delicate hands pushed my forearms against the floor with crushing force._

_"What will I do? Hmmm, let's see. You humans have so many soft and vulnerable spots on your fragile little bodies. It would be soooo hard to choose just one."_

_"Asha! Help!" I squeaked rather pathetically for a grown man of seventeen. I was deathly afraid for one particularly soft and vulnerable spot at that moment, but all I heard was Asha's soft laughter in return._

_"I hear there's an opening at the local monastery for a eunuch," Rhodes said, grinning evilly. "Care to apply?"_

_"Rhodes," I gasped, horrified at just the thought. "Think of Asha! You'd break her heart if you damaged me!" I was half laughing, half begging. "I promise never to call you by your real names. In fact, this conversation never took place, as far as I'm concerned. I was just teasing you, anyway!"_

_"Rhodes, dearest, he's right. That particular soft spot is very precious to me." Asha sighed dramatically and then laughed. Rhodes joined in and both of them enjoyed themselves quite a while at my expense, until she finally let me up with a delicate pat to the cheek._

_"It's 'Rhodes'. Remember that." She laughed softly and I, once again, wondered how I'd gotten so lucky as to be in the company of two such beautiful and engaging women._

 

  
"What was her real name?" Alice asked curiously.

I chuckled. "She never told Michael her real names, and he knew better than to ask." 

"What did she look like?"

"She was a great beauty, second only to Asha in that regard. Michael adored her hair. It was one of the most beautiful things about her. It was long and wild, and she never put it up. It was always down around her shoulders and back, and it swirled in the wind like it was alive. She had a wonderful sense of humor and she was very fun to be around. She was much like you, Alice: quick to laugh, quick to anger, but even quicker with her forgiveness. She had a very kind heart."

"Did she have red eyes, too?"

"Oh yes, because she was also from Asha's world."

I told Alice the stories of my life. The precious moments of my past flashed through my mind like the frozen pictures from Mary Grace's new Brownie camera. One after the other, I visited each of them with Alice. She laughed at our antics as the three of us had scampered our way across the European continent with the reckless abandonment of youth.

Although, technically, I had been the youngest of us, my youthful innocence had seemed to rub off on Asha and Rhodes. Those years before my change had been some of the happiest of my existence. I had been enthralled with both of them during those years, mesmerized by their beauty, strength and agility. Rhodes' continuous good humor had kept Asha and I entertained, while Asha's quiet strength had kept the three of us as close as any three people could have been. Both of them, in turn, had treated me with kindness, respect and tenderness, always mindful of my human frailties.

I continued to speak of our time together, even after the sound of Alice's even breathing told me she was asleep and no longer listening. Reliving the past, especially on this night, was the best remedy for my aching soul. And Rhodes was another. Asha was gone, but Rhodes wasn't. The thought of her waiting for me at home was a comfort I hadn't felt in centuries. I couldn't wait to see her, I realized, as I rose to my feet.

"Goodnight, my sweet Alice," I whispered through the door.

 

* * *

  
_**October 15, 1906** _

The early evening rush of people moving from work to home escaped my attention as I made my way leisurely back to the hospital for another night of work. My thoughts were centered on Rhodes and the past hours we’d spent together. Upon arriving home from the hospital, with the stories I'd told Alice fresh in my mind, Rhodes had met me at the door. We'd spent the day in each other's embrace, forced to stay inside by the bright sun of a Biloxi autumn sky. Rhodes had been disappointed; I hadn’t minded at all.

October 15th had always been a difficult day for me, and this one had been no different. In the beginning, I hadn’t even tried to deal with the pain of it. I’d smothered my grief, more often than not, with a twenty-four hour rampage of death and blood and destruction. The unfortunate humans who had inadvertently gotten in my way had suffered immensely in their last minutes of life, and they’d had no way of knowing that it hadn’t been personal at all. I hadn’t even been thirsty most of the time. It had been Aro’s face that had danced before my eyes as the life had slowly left theirs. I’d killed the man over and over in my imagination for centuries, and still the bastard lived.

Thankfully, it had been almost two hundred years since I’d committed such atrocities in such great numbers. My reformation had been a long, difficult struggle—a stubborn test of wills between my conscience and my true nature. My conscience had eventually won out, but it was constantly being tested. The demon inside of me never rested, never gave up the hope that he’d once again control my life.

If only I’d had been with Rhodes all those years, things would have been much different. We’d spent the day cuddled up on the sofa talking about Asha, and it had helped me immensely to get through the sadness. Together, we’d relived the wedding and our travels around the world. She’d told me stories of Asha that I’d never heard before—mostly the humorous confidences between two women who were the closest of friends; the type of stories that husbands rarely heard. I’d shared stories with her—things that had happened between Asha and me that she’d never known about. We’d laughed a great deal over some of them, and had felt like crying over as many more.

After we’d exhausted our supply of reminiscences, I’d convinced her to read a book with me. We’d taken turns reading aloud to each other and discussing the story for well over two hours. Then we’d made love… _twice..._ with a depth of emotion that had astounded me. The bond of friendship that we’d formed over eight hundred years ago had somehow evolved into a deep love that had taken me unawares.

“Good evening, Morgan. You look well.” Mary Grace’s pleasant greeting pulled me reluctantly out of my daydreams. I had been so absorbed in them that I hadn’t realized I had arrived at the hospital.

“Thank you, as do you,” I answered, smiling.

Only as we’d started down the long hallway together did I begin to wonder what she was doing in my wing of the hospital at this time of the evening. I rarely ever saw her until Alice’s dinner hour.

“I wanted to speak with you before you started your shift,” she said, unknowingly answering my silent question.

“What about?”

She hesitated. Her steps slowed, and I adjusted my pace to match hers. “I just wanted to tell you what a difference your presence has made in the hospital. This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Puzzled at her choice of words, I frowned slightly in her direction. “Thank you,” I acknowledged slowly, and then added with a chuckle, “Am I going somewhere that I don’t know about?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t laugh with me. “I hope not,” she said solemnly.

It was then that I realized something was terribly wrong with this conversation. I turned on my heel and left her standing in the middle of the hallway. Something was wrong with Alice. That had to be it.

“Morgan!” Mary Grace scurried after me, shouting my name in consternation. “Morgan, stop!”

Because I was forced to walk at an infuriatingly slow human pace, she managed to catch up with me. She grasped my arm, trying to stop my forward progress to Alice’s room.

“Morgan, please! Listen to me, please,” she begged.

“What’s wrong? What has happened?” I asked, stopping momentarily to keep from dragging her down the hallway with me in a most unseemly manner.

“Please hold your temper. That’s all I’m asking. Don’t frighten her, please,” she pleaded softly.

I felt the first stirrings of panic at her words. I gently shook off her hand, and rushed down the hall to Alice’s room. I stopped just outside the entrance and gathered my composure. Mary Grace rushed up behind me, out of breath from trying to keep my pace. I stepped into the room without knowing what awaited me there. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Alice sitting cross-legged on her bed hunched over a pile of papers. Her head was bent low, her face hid by her hair. She was coloring happily, oblivious to our presence.

“Alice?” I spoke her name softly and smiled.

Her head flew up and she grinned excitedly. “Morgan! You’re here! Come look at my pictures!”

I had no interest in her pictures. I was immobile, frozen into place by the rage that was beginning to slowly spread through me.

“Morgan,” Mary Grace whispered behind me. “Please, don’t frighten her.”

I slowly walked to her bedside and stopped at the edge.

“This one is Mary Grace and Wills in their garden,” she explained, pushing a paper toward me.

I glanced down at it with disinterest, and murmured something I hoped was appropriate. I was barely even aware of what was happening around me at that point. My attention was focused on her face, her beautifully sweet porcelain heart-shaped face that was now marred with bruises and swellings. I tugged at her chin gingerly with my thumb and forefinger. Her huge green eyes lifted to mine. One was wide and innocent and confused. The other was swollen almost shut and surrounded by purple splotches underneath the skin.

“She did this?” I asked, my voice menacingly soft. We all knew to whom I was referring.

A tear formed in her good eye and slid down her cheek. Alice nodded and then said, “I threw my food at her.”

I touched the tip of my finger to her bottom lip, near the corner. It was swollen and tender. She flinched at just that small touch. “And this?”

Her face began to dissolve into misery as the silent tears turned into sobs. “I told her I hated her and hoped she died, and she hit me.”

She totally disintegrated as I pulled her into my arms. I held her close and whispered soothing words to her as she cried. Mary Grace tenderly patted her back as we patiently waited for her to tears to subside. My fingers slid through her silky hair as I cradled her head against my chest. That was when I felt the small lump protruding from her skull.

The fiery rage of before was gone now, like a great breath had suddenly blown it out. In its place an icy calm began spreading throughout my body, a cold hatred that was even more frightening than any fit of temper I could have thrown. It had been well over two hundred years since I'd murdered anyone for the pure joy of it. Not for thirst, or out of anger, but just for the sheer pleasure of feeling bone crush beneath my hands and the slick slide of blood down my throat. But I supposed it was much like riding a horse: you never forgot once you learned how.

Finally she pulled away from me. “Are you mad at me?” she asked in a pitiful voice.

“Of course not. It was wrong of her to strike you. You’re not to blame in any way for this. I’ll make sure she never hits you again. I promise.” And with that, I released her and stepped away from her bed. With barely a glance at Mary Grace, I left the room with a single-minded focus: to find Mrs. Filkins.

I stalked down the hallway as fast as possible, infuriated at having to walk so slowly, when all I wanted to do was to run as fast as my inhuman body would allow. I heard the click of Mary Grace’s shoes following quickly behind me.

“Morgan! Stop!” she shouted breathlessly. I ignored her. I attuned my senses to my surroundings and searched for Mrs. Filkins’ characteristic scent.

“Morgan!” She caught up with me and placed her body directly in my path. It was either stop or walk right over top of her. I stopped, albeit reluctantly.

“Where are you going?” she asked worriedly, her eyes searching my face.

“To find Mrs. Filkins. Where _else_ would I be going?”

I gently pushed her aside and continued on. I’d located her. She was in a patient’s room a few hundred feet ahead of me. She only had a few minutes of her miserable life left to live.

Mary Grace caught up with me and blocked my path yet again with her whole body. “Morgan, my God! You can’t do this!” she wailed anxiously. “They’ll fire you, or worse, they’ll put you in jail!”

“Get out of my way! I don't want to hurt you,” I snarled as I tried to maneuver my way around her body.

She slammed both palms hard against my chest in an effort to hold me back. She might as well have tried to stop a speeding locomotive bare-handed. “No, damn you! You can’t do this! If you do this, who will be left to watch over Alice! She’ll be all alone and at that woman’s mercy! Let me handle this. Please, Morgan! I’ll report her and we'll let her supervisor deal with her. Please! You can't leave Alice alone! You can't!!”

The words 'Alice' and 'alone' were the only two words with the power to stop my murderous rampage in its tracks. Mary Grace continued to plead with me, unaware that her arguments had already reached the reasoning part of my mind. I allowed her to pull me into a nearby empty room, an unused supply closet, evidently.

"I'll report her," Mary Grace continued as she shut the door behind her, leaving us alone in the small, empty room. "It'll be better coming from a fellow nurse, rather than you. I mean no offense, but as an orderly, you have no authority in this matter."

"No offense taken. And you're right. It would be better handled by you. Do what you must." _And I'll do what I must, once I corner her in a secluded spot of the hospital._

She visibly breathed a sigh of relief as the tension of the moment left her body. "I'll take care of it this evening, and hopefully by the end of the week, she'll be explaining herself before the administrators of this hospital. She'll pay for this. I promise you."

Mary Grace sounded so sure that her way of handling things would work, that Mrs. Filkins would be severely upbraided, perhaps even fired because of this. I had my doubts. Evil people had a cunning way of wriggling out of trouble at every turn. Just in case, I planned on privately confronting Mrs. Filkins before the evening was through.

"Promise me you won't do anything rash. I don't know what Alice would do if you weren't here. It would devastate her, you have to know that. You're like a father to her now."

Mary Grace was correct in her assessment of the situation. Alice was a strong child, but also very fragile in some ways. I silently berated myself for even the thought of indulging my temper at her possible expense. But Mrs. Filkins' time would come. I felt sure of that, just as sure as the sun rising and setting in the sky. That was another thing I'd learned in eight centuries: life always presented opportunities. I planned on being there when they arrived.

Mary Grace patted my chest, and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from my shirt. "Now, both of us need to get to work. Promise me you'll not do anything that will make matters worse. Promise me!"

"I promise." And that was mostly the truth. I wasn't going to do anything to make matters worse. I intended to _improve_ matters, at least for Alice. My satisfaction at watching the bitch die would, unfortunately, have to be postponed for the time being. But that didn't mean I couldn't instill a bit of fear into her. The woman needed to realize exactly who she was dealing with.

With a cautious eye trained constantly in my direction, Mary Grace slowly opened the door and gestured me out into the hallway. It was with great relief on her part, I imagine, that I returned to Alice's room, and my duties, without incident.

My calm exterior gave away nothing of my true feelings as we dined together that evening in Alice's room. I even managed to smile a few times, and engage in enough pleasant conversation to allay any worries that Mary Grace might have had. I'd had centuries of practice in deceit. I was an expert at hiding my true nature when the occasion called for it.

 

* * *

 

The hospital was quiet, at least as quiet as it was going to get. Most patients were fast asleep as the hands on the clock approached 3 AM. It was during this quiet time that the head nurse in every ward always retreated to her office to catch up on paperwork. Mrs. Filkins was no exception. I expected to find her exactly where she was at that very moment: at her small desk, in her equally small office with her head bent over a sheaf of papers. So hard at work was she, that she never noticed my entrance into the room until the soft sound of the door closing and the lock being engaged finally caught her attention.

"Mr. Grant," she said with a confused frown.

"We need to talk," I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded even to my own ears.

"I'm busy," she snapped, turning her attention back to her work and effectively dismissing me like some distasteful piece of rubbish that had attached itself to her shoe.

Her attitude infuriated me anew. I reached down and calmly plucked her pencil from between her fingers and snapped it in two. "Not anymore." I let the pieces drop back onto her desk.

I smiled inwardly as her eyes hardened and shrank to tiny pinpoints of fury. She rose from her desk and turned to face me, a pitiful attempt on her part to balance the power in the room. She mistakenly thought that standing eye-to-eye with me somehow intimidated me. That might work for the ordinary human, but it had no effect whatsoever on me.

"Get out," she said with her jaw clenched in anger. "I have nothing to discuss with an orderly."

"We're going to talk about Alice, and the fact that you struck her hard enough to leave bruises on her face and a lump on the back of her head," I said, ignoring her order to leave.

She snorted derisively. "You need to stick to cleaning up shit, something you actually know something about, because you know nothing about what it means to be a nurse in a hospital full of delusional patients."

"I don't care what it means, and your insults mean nothing to me," I said as I took a step closer to her. Surprisingly, she stood her ground. "What matters to me is Alice." I took another step closer to her until we were only inches apart. Her scent washed over me; the thirst flared, along with my temper. "I see into your soul. I know what you are. You're a sadistic bitch masquerading as a caring nurse."

"You bastard!"

Her hand flew upwards, intending to land a blow across my cheek. I smiled and caught her wrist in my iron grip before it could connect with my face. She struggled to free herself, but to no avail. I twisted her entire arm until it was back down, hanging along her side.

"If you recall, I once told you that if you struck Alice, you'd never use your arm again. Did you forget about that? Because I didn't." I never gave her a chance to respond. Instead, I crushed the bones of her little finger into several pieces. Her sharp yelp of pain sent a rush of pleasure through my entire body.

Her chest was heaving with fury as she fought against me, despite her pain. "I'll have you fired for this!" she snarled between clenched teeth.

"No one will believe you. I have an exemplary record and have caused no problems for anyone in the two years I've been employed here. If questioned, I'll innocently deny this meeting ever happened, and I _will_ be believed, trust me on that."

"You're the one who's sadistic!" she snapped through her agony.

"No, I simply will not tolerate anyone hurting someone I love." I pushed her down into her chair and leaned close in to her face, her wrist still grasped firmly in my fingers. "I know where you live, and I know you have a very beautiful flaxen-haired granddaughter just about Alice's age. Malvina is her name, I believe. Am I correct?"

"You son-of-a-bitch," she whispered in fear. "You stay away from my family."

"You leave Alice alone and we'll have no problem on that front. You must believe me when I tell you that I don't enjoy hurting children, but Alice is precious to me, and you know that. I expect the abuse to stop... _now!"_ I spat the last word at her with lips curled over my teeth. I wanted so badly to just kill her and be done with it, but sadly, that pleasure was left to another day.

I released her and backed toward the door, never taking my eyes off of her. "I would get that set as soon as possible," I said, nodding my head in the direction her hand. "Don't worry. It will heal very quickly, much quicker than a broken arm."

She never moved and watched me warily as I backed away. I was pleased to see genuine fear in her eyes.

"Mrs. Filkins," I said softly before I opened the door to leave. "There is another thing you must know about me." I hesitated for effect. "I don't make idle threats."

 


	32. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhode's nickname (which is a shortened version of her full first name) is pronounced with a soft "i", like in the word "visit".

**~ MORGAN ~**

Rhodes met me at the door with a warm kiss and immediately picked up on my distress. "What's wrong?"

I walked past her and sat down on the Chesterfield, staring at the floor, too ashamed to even look at her. In an instant, she was sitting on the floor between my legs, perched back on her ankles and trying to get my attention. I stubbornly refused to meet her eyes, despite her repeated attempts.

"Please tell me," she pleaded quietly after sighing in defeat.

I wanted so badly to tell her. I needed to tell someone about Michael Golland, and what kind of man he really was behind the polished exterior. Rhodes might would understand, but I hesitated to open up to her. There was so much about my dark period that she didn't know. Would she feel differently about me if she did? "There's something wrong with me," I said finally. "Has been from the very beginning."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, but she said nothing and just waited patiently for me to continue.

"There's something..." I stopped. I was finding it difficult to even locate the proper words for it in my mind. I started again. "There's…a flaw…somewhere in my makeup. Something went wrong when Asha changed me."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Didn't either of you notice it? But of course, both of you trained me so well that first year. I became quite good at hiding it, but I still can't believe that neither of you noticed my... cruel streak." I raised my eyes to hers and saw a flicker of acknowledgment. _Yes, she'd known. So if she'd known, Asha had known, too._

"Asha was aware of it," she admitted. “We both were. That's why we hovered over you so closely the first couple of years. After awhile though, you seemed to have control over it, so we began to feel like we'd overreacted. There was only that one instance..." She let her voice trail off. We both knew what instance she was referring to: the first time I'd discovered my vampire gift, if such a monstrous thing could even be called a gift. "But after that, you seemed fine."

"I wasn't," I said, sighing sadly as the memories came rushing back at me from centuries ago. Slowly and with some hesitation, I began to tell her about the real Michael Golland:

"I have a demon inside of me, a demon that loves to kill. Not just for food, but for pleasure. I have to pretend it's a separate entity dwelling inside of me. That's the only way I can deal with this dark side of myself. Before everything happened with Asha, I imagined him living somewhere inside of my body behind a thick stone wall, and there was a wooden door in that wall that kept him at bay. But, it was a very fragile door with no lock and, as I discovered later, it was a door that could be opened very easily.

"When Asha died, and when I left Volterra after meeting with Aro, I opened that door and let the demon loose. For a very long time, I convinced myself that my grief and thirst for revenge against Aro were the reasons for all the killing, but eventually I came to realize that I liked it. Killing gave me pleasure, pure and simple."

I looked at her, although it hurt to do it. I saw sadness and worry in her eyes. "Do you enjoy killing, Rhodes? Do you feel joyous and powerful when you take a human life?"

“No,” she whispered.

"Of course you don’t, and Daniel wouldn't even consider doing such a thing. It’s just _me_ who gets physical pleasure out of killing. I've murdered so many women; you can’t even imagine how many. They were the easiest victims: weak, easily manipulated by someone skilled at deception, like myself. I didn't even need to use my power to influence them. They fell into my arms willingly. No human woman has ever survived an evening with me, except for..."

"Katherine," she interjected softly.

I nodded. Katherine. My beautiful Katie. Long, flaming red hair, fair skin and delicate bones. A woman who'd had a stubbornness and strength of will that had matched my own, a strong and loving woman who'd survived our first encounter, only to die later because of it. A woman, who even in death, continued to haunt mine and Daniel’s memories. I hurriedly pushed those images to the back of my mind before the pain of them could get an iron grip on my heart.

"Even Daniel sensed there was something wrong with me. Not long after I first met him he called me a 'sick son-of-a-bitch'. He said I was so damaged inside that I would never be able to love or be loved by anyone. I nearly killed him that night, and not because he’d said it, but because deep down I'd known it was true and he’d forced me to face it. That night became a turning point for me. Daniel deserves most of the credit for the person I am today. If it weren’t for him, I think I’d be completely lost now.”

She reached up and pushed my hair back. "He seemed very worried about you when I visited him. He's obviously devoted to you, so you must have convinced him that there was someone inside you worth loving." Her hand came to rest lightly on my chest, directly over my lifeless heart.

Mine and Daniel's relationship was a complicated one, too complicated to explain to Rhodes, so I quickly moved on. "After the fiasco with Daniel and the Volturi, I fled here, to the wilderness of the New World, as they were calling it back then. I finally was able to gain some control over the thirst and my behavior. That demon is behind an even thicker stone wall now, and there hasn't been a door in that wall for over two hundred years."

"Why are you telling me this?" She tugged at my chin until I rose up and looked at her. "What's happened?"

"I'm having a very difficult time with control right now," I confessed, my eyes sliding away from hers. "There's a nurse at the hospital who is chipping away at that wall, stone by stone. She's abusive to the patients, both verbally and physically." For some reason that I would have to ponder later, I didn't want to tell Rhodes about Alice just yet. "I want to kill her so badly that I can, at times, almost taste her blood in my mouth. I imagine ripping her throat out, stabbing her, all manners of murder have gone through my mind.

"She went too far and hit one of the patients and left bruises. I threatened her tonight. I crushed the bones of her little finger, pulverized them, actually. I seriously doubt she'll ever regain the full use of it. And the really bad thing was that I liked it. Oh, how I liked it. You can't imagine the pleasure that rippled through my body when I felt her bones break in my hand. And not only that, I also threatened her family. I hinted that I would hurt her granddaughter. Even though I would never kill a child, I made her believe that I would. This is the monster you're in love with, the _real_ Michael Golland."

"Oh, Michael, no," she whispered, as she took my face in both of her hands. "You’re not that man any longer, no matter what you may think. You’re trying to atone for your past and I admire you so much for that. No, the man I love is _not_ a monster. He’s loving and kind and loyal to those he cherishes most. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying so hard to be. Don’t you see? The love is in the trying.”

“It makes me happy that you think that of me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to kill that woman someday. I know that just as sure as I know my own name. Just like I know that I’m going to enjoy it immensely, and I’m going to suffer greatly for it afterward. Because once I start down that road again, I'm lost.”

"You don't have to struggle with this alone," she admonished me quietly. "Let the people who care about you help. I'm here now, and I know that Daniel would be by your side in an instant if you sent for him. He seemed very concerned about you."

I had to admit to myself that I missed Daniel greatly, but inviting him back into my life would be a mistake. The last thing I needed was to get involved again in his ongoing vendetta against the Volturi and Aro. And yes, Rhodes was here, but I had no idea how long that was going to last. In the end, I was alone in this struggle. Neither Rhodes nor Daniel had the power to stop me if I decided to let go of my control, and I didn't want either one of them around me if and when that happened. In truth, Alice was the only person with the ability to keep my demon in check—vulnerable and fragile little Alice. She was a more powerful force in my life than anyone could ever imagine. Nothing I said or did now was ever undertaken without first thinking of the consequences to _her._

I took Rhode’s face in my hands and kissed her forehead before pulling back and looking into the depths of her brilliant crimson eyes. "You can’t know how much it means to me that you’re here.”

She crooned softly and reached up to push my errant hair from my forehead. “It means a lot to me, as well. I’ve missed you so very much.”

“You know, Daniel frequently got annoyed with me because I was always so reluctant to admit my true feelings.” I could hear his voice as clear in my memories as if he were sitting right beside me: ‘Why don’t you just say you like it, Michael?’ Just the thought of him made me smile, even though he drove me to distraction when we were together for any length of time. 

“One of the most valuable things I learned from my years with him was to simply be honest about what I like.” I snaked my hand into her hair, and twined it around my fingers. “I like your hair. It’s so beautiful.”

She smiled shyly back at me.

“I like your eyes and the way you look at me with them.”

She chuckled softly and flashed them at me in that inviting way that she possessed.

I brushed my thumb across her lips. “I like to kiss you.”

A soft sigh escaped from between them.

“I like the way I feel when I’m with you,” I said, as I tenderly stroked her cheek. “I like the way your body feels against mine, and I like the way you make love to me.” 

She smiled and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Would you like me to tell you what _I_ like?”

I nodded. “Please do.”

She pushed my stubborn lock of hair back again from my forehead. “I like this annoying clump of hair that will never stay where it belongs,” she said, grinning.

“I hate it.” I growled softly and smiled.

“I like the passion in you. You’re such a passionate man, when you love, when you hate, and even when you kill. It’s intoxicating. I like the power that radiates from your body when you make love to me,” she whispered, as she ran a line of kisses along my jaw.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s hard to describe,” she said pensively when she pulled back to look at me. “I call it your aura, but that’s not really accurate. I can feel something around you, like an invisible cloak, and when I get very, very close to you, it crawls across my skin. But it’s not an unpleasant sensation at all; it’s wonderful. Yours is one of the most powerful auras that I’ve felt, with the exceptions of Aro and Jane, of course. Daniel’s is weaker, but still impressive.”

“I never knew you had that gift.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a gift really. It’s just something I sense about other vampires. I can’t do anything with it, and it's nothing compared to what Daniel can do but, enough of that." She waved her hand in dismissal. "Do you want to know what I _really_ like?" she asked, her mischievous grin returning. Without waiting for me to respond, she continued, "I like that you're going to buy me a bed. How's that coming, by the way?"

 _Damn._  “Uhm, I haven’t progressed very far on that yet, but I will, I promise.” I’d been purposely putting it off. Asking Mary Grace to purchase a bed for me was not something I was looking forward to.

“I’ll be patient a little while longer, but if you really want me to hang around, you’re going to have to get a bed, and soon,” she said, grinning crookedly. “Because this sofa isn’t big enough, or strong enough, for some of the things I want to do to you.”

I wasn't sure exactly what kind of sound came out of my throat in response to that, something between a moan, a sigh and a choke. Rhodes chuckled seductively, pushed me slowly back onto the Chesterfield and gave me a sample of what I could expect.

That was all it took. I was ordering that bed tonight, no matter what Mary Grace thought of me.

 

* * *

 

As soon as I arrived at the hospital, I saw Mrs. Filkins coming toward me. She noticed me too late to duck into a nearby door. She had no choice in the matter but to speak to me, as I wasn’t going to allow her to ignore my presence in this hospital any longer.

“Good evening, Mrs. Filkins.” I nodded my head politely. “I see you injured your finger. I hope it’s not serious.” It was swaddled in thick white cotton bandages and stuck out from her hand most grotesquely.

She glared at me, which I enjoyed very much. “You know very well how serious it is, Mister Grant!” She spat my name out of her mouth like it tasted foul. “The doctor says I may never regain the use of it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said apologetically. “But at least it’s not a finger you use all the time. Think if it had been your thumb, or your index finger.” I let the silent threat hang heavy in the air—just a small reminder that I was serious about Alice’s continuing safety.

“I suppose you’re the one responsible for reporting the incident to the administrator?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps one of the nurses who witnessed it felt compelled to report it. Maybe you should ask _them_ that question,” I said innocently. She would never find out from me that Mary Grace was, in fact, responsible for turning her in.

“Well, whoever did it wasted their time,” she said smugly. “Nothing is going to come of it. This sort of thing happens routinely with violent and delusional patients. The administration understands that and supports our efforts to keep patients and nurses safe.”

I smiled. “I don’t care whether anything comes of it or not,” I said softly so that only she could hear my words. “You already know what is going to happen if it occurs again.” And with that, I walked away from her, without even giving her a chance to respond.

Long before I got to Alice’s room, I heard her heart racing and the rhythmic slapping of her tiny feet on the floor. She was jumping rope. I leaned against the door jamb, smiling as I watched her for a few moments. Finally she felt my presence behind her and grinned up at me.

“Morgan! Look what I can do!” she exclaimed, a little too loudly.

“Alice, sssh,” I admonished her. “Not so loud!”

She giggled an apology behind her hand and proudly demonstrated her new-found ability to skip rope on one foot and then on the other foot. Of course, after a few seconds she’d get her feet all tangled up and have to start over again, but she was persistent, despite her mistakes.

“That’s very good.” I chuckled. “I’m impressed.”

She dropped the rope to the floor and flung herself against my legs. Her exuberant greetings never failed to make me smile. I carefully peeled her off of my pants legs and hoisted her up into my arms. My temper flared once again at seeing her puffy eye and swollen lip, but I quickly tamped it down. I doubted Mrs. Filkins would have the courage to lay a hand on her again.

“So how is my Queen Mary Alice this evening?” I asked formally.

She giggled and raised her chin haughtily like I’d taught her. “Your queen is tired from jumping rope and is hungry and wants to eat… _right now_ ,” she demanded in her snootiest queen voice.

“Unfortunately, dinner is not for awhile yet and your loyal subject has to go to work.” I sighed. “Perhaps my queen would like to amuse herself with her crayons while she waits?” I deposited her gently onto her bed and gathered her paper and crayons for her.

“I’m going to draw _you,"_ she announced and then went happily to work.

“I look forward to seeing your masterpieces, my queen,” I said, bowing with a flourish. I left her room to another chorus of tiny giggles.

 

* * *

 

“Look at what I drew, Mary Grace.” 

Alice pushed a drawing past her dinner tray and over to the edge of the bed. I glanced up from the pile of textbooks lying in my lap to see Mary Grace pause over her dinner and lean over to look at it.

She snickered softly. “Oh, that’s very interesting.”

I turned my attention back to the books. I was trying to decide which subject I should introduce to Alice next. Perhaps some simple lessons in world history? Or maybe American history?

Mary Grace laughed as she perused the drawing more closely. “Well, that’s obviously Morgan,” she said. “But who is this beside of him? That isn’t me is it?”

“That’s Morgan’s lady friend,” Alice announced.

My head jerked up in surprise at hearing my name and ‘lady friend’ used together in the same sentence. A sidelong glance at Mary Grace told me she was similarly surprised. I sighed inwardly. Thanks to my little imp, the cat was now out of the bag. “Alice,” I said, frowning. “That was supposed to be a secret.”

Her face fell. “You didn’t tell me it was a secret,” she said in a quivering voice. She seemed on the verge of crying. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I smiled to set her mind at ease. I chastised myself for forgetting how tender her feelings were, and how easily they rose to surface. “I’m not upset with you. It’s fine.”

“You’ve met someone?” Mary Grace asked. “That’s wonderful!” She set her dinner tray aside and turned in her chair to face me. Curiosity was burning in her eyes and I feared what was coming next. “Tell me all about her.”

Two pairs of eyes were now focused squarely on me, waiting. “Well, actually, she’s someone I knew from a long time ago,” I said slowly. “She just came by for a visit.”

“What’s her name? Do I know her?” Mary Grace asked. She was leaned forward in her chair, waiting with anticipation for my answer. Alice, on the other hand, was still and silent, and watching me with that piercing green stare of hers.

“Her name is R—“ Luckily I caught myself in time, remembering that I’d used Rhode’s name in my stories to Alice the previous night and would therefore have to use one of her other names now. “Her name is Lissa.”

“Lissa? What an unusual name,” Mary Grace mused.

“She’s Greek,” I offered, hoping that explanation would suffice.

“And they’re not getting married either,” Alice announced stubbornly. “ _And_ they’re not having any babies!”

“No,” I said and then smiled at Alice in reassurance. “We’re not getting married. I told you that last night, remember? We’re just very good friends. That’s all.”

I looked pointedly at Mary Grace, willing her with my gaze to understand that this conversation was moving in a direction that was upsetting to Alice. I saw comprehension suddenly dawn in her eyes, and knew that she was silently berating herself for her insensitivity.

Mary Grace leaned back in her chair then and cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Morgan, for prying into your personal life,” she said with some embarrassment. “That was very rude of me.”

“That’s quite all right,” I reassured her, but I could tell by the gleam in her eye that we would be discussing this further as soon as she could corner me alone.

 

* * *

 

After Mary Grace had read Alice two bedtime stories and tucked her in for the night, she asked to speak to me alone. I’d been dreading this conversation all evening, not because the topic of Rhodes would inevitably come up—I was prepared for that—but because I had to inquire about a bed. I didn’t consider the sleeping arrangements inside my house to be an appropriate conversation I should be having with Mary Grace. But, if I wanted Rhodes to stay it had to be done, and done tonight. We ended up sitting across from each other in the nurses’ break room. Fortunately, at this time of the evening it was deserted and quiet.

“I want to apologize to you again for prying into your private affairs,” Mary Grace said hesitantly. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that I’m so happy that you’ve found someone to share your life with. It was very exciting news, and very comforting, as well. I worry about you, you know.”

I smiled at the thought of her worrying over a creature such as myself. “I’m flattered that I even cross your thoughts. Thank you for that. But you really mustn’t worry about me. Lissa is very good company. She’s full of laughter and loves life. In fact, I’m not even allowed to be dreary or depressing in her presence or she glares at me.”

That brought a quiet laugh from Mary Grace. “She sounds delightful and just like the sort of woman you need. I hope I get to meet her soon.”

I chose to ignore that last remark and instead moved on to the dreaded subject of the bed. “Mary Grace, I’m afraid I must call upon you to make some rather large purchases for me.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” she said brightly. “Just ask.”

“I need a bed,” I blurted out and then cringed inwardly. If I’d have been physically able to manage a blush, my entire face would have been a bright shade of red at that moment.

“You mean you don’t have a bed?” Mary Grace asked, plainly shocked at this strange state of affairs.

“Oh, of course I have a bed.” I snorted. “But what I need…” Then I realized that what I was about to say was even worse than my initial request.

“You need what?” Mary Grace was confused, but waiting patiently for my answer.

I took a mental deep breath and jumped in with both feet. “I need a… _bigger_ …bed.” I stared down at the table to keep from seeing the merriment in her eyes. She was actually enjoying my discomfort.

“A bigger bed,” she mused. “Aah, I see. Well then, a bigger bed it is. What type of wood? Oak, cherry, pine?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s strong,” I answered without thinking.

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Strong?” She grinned widely. “I see.”

I sighed in frustration at the depth of the hole I was digging for myself. “I’m truly sorry for involving you in things of such a personal nature, but I have no choice. I’ve been given an ultimatum by Lissa.”

She laughed heartily at that. “Oh dear! Lissa sounds like quite the gal! Well, by all means we must keep her happy. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Do you need anything else?” she asked, her sly grin still in place. Yes, she was definitely enjoying herself at my expense.

“Perhaps some nice bed linens, and a pair of matching drapes,” I answered. “Mine aren’t suitable, apparently. And a Victrola with some records to go along with it. And maybe a silk dressing gown for bed—she’s partial to blue.” I snuck a glance at Mary Grace when I’d finished. Her mischievous smile was gone, replaced by that indescribable look that women tend to get over matters of the heart.

“You really care for this woman, don’t you?”

“Yes I do,” I answered quietly. “She’s probably the only woman who can love what is in my heart.”

Mary Grace made a soft cooing noise and then sighed. “Oh Morgan, that is sooo sweet.” She reached over and patted my hand. “Don’t you worry. I’ll find something really special for your Lissa.”

“Thank you,” I said with relief.

“Now, there’s something I needed to speak with _you_ about,” she said, her manner all business now. “We have a birthday party to plan.”

“We do? Whose?”

“Alice’s,” she replied excitedly. “And you’re never going to believe what I discovered!”

“What?”

“Well, first of all, I had a friend take a peek into her files to find out her birthday. It’s November 25th, but get this: she was born in 1900. She told me she was six, but she’s only five!”

“Five? Are you sure?” I asked, shocked.

“Yes! I had my friend go back and double-check, and it’s true. Alice was born November 25, 1900.”

“Why would she tell us she was six?” I asked, confused.

Mary Grace waved her hand in dismissal. “Young children often get confused about their ages. She was probably told by her parents that she was going to be six soon and she just got that number stuck in her head. My niece still holds up the wrong number of fingers when we ask her how old she is, and she’s Alice’s age, too.”

This was an astonishing bit of news. It made me even more appreciative of Alice’s intellect and maturity level. Her reading and mathematics levels were astounding for a five-year-old. Not that I was that experienced with the abilities of children, but I felt sure that Alice was performing well beyond the normal range of a child her age, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration her visions.

Mary Grace was obviously thinking along the same lines. “She is an exceptional little girl,” she said, more serious now. “My niece can’t do the things you’ve been able to teach Alice. She’s obviously a very gifted child, and I’m not even counting the visions. I simply cannot believe that parents would just abandon such a bright child.”

“Neither can I.” But secretly, I was glad of it. If not for that one decision by the Brandon family, Alice would have never entered into my life.

“Tell me what you think of this idea,” Mary Grace continued. “I’m going to ask special permission to take Alice to my house for her birthday. Since I’m a nurse, I’m hoping they’ll agree. We’ll throw her a grand party with cake and candles and lots of presents. I’ll invite my nieces so Alice will get to play with some children her own age, and we’ll have it in the evening, of course, so that you can come and meet Wills. What do you think?”

I was speechless for a moment, touched at Mary Grace’s thoughtfulness. I couldn’t even imagine Alice’s joy if she were allowed to leave the hospital—even for just an evening—to visit Mary Grace’s home. “I think that is a splendid idea. That is so thoughtful of you. If this works out, Alice will be beside herself with happiness.”

“Goodness,” she said excitedly. “We have so much to plan. You and I need to put our heads together and figure out the perfect gifts, and we need a theme for her party.”

“Mary Grace.” I quietly interrupted her. “I’m so thankful that I found you. You have been such a blessing for Alice, and for me.”

She smiled and laid her warm hand across my cool one. “I believe that some things in this life are just meant to be. Alice was destined to become a part of my life, as were you. And I know for a fact that she is blessed to have _you_. You are so good with her.” She rose from the table and looked down at me fondly. “You know, you are going to make such a wonderful father someday.”

As she left the room to return to work, a stab of pain shot through my body at her parting words—a pain so hard and sharp that it almost felt as if someone had buried a dagger deep inside my chest and was slowly turning the blade. I’d thought that pain to be long gone, but with just a few innocently spoken words it had come back with an agonizing force, as vicious and raw as the first time I’d experienced it nearly three hundred years ago.

_No, Mary Grace. I am never going to be a father…_

_Ever again._

 


	33. No Room for Sadness

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**October 17-November 16, 1906** _

 

The week came and went, and Mrs. Filkins was still an employee of the hospital, as I had suspected she would be. No punitive action had been taken regarding the incident with Alice. Mary Grace very vocally bemoaned the lack of justice in the world while I satisfied myself with the knowledge that Mrs. Filkins’ cruelty had been successfully reined in—at least for a little while—using the Michael Golland style of justice.

Mrs. Filkins had finally gotten the message loud and clear. Her manner was cold, but professional, in Alice’s presence now. She spoke only sparingly to both Mary Grace and I as she went about her duties, which was just fine with the both of us.

Finally, life in the hospital settled into a familiar and comforting routine for everyone concerned. I wished the same could be said for my formerly familiar and comforting home life.

 

* * *

 

Everything Mary Grace had ordered for me arrived a few days later while I was at the hospital. I came home one morning to a house full of music and Rhodes dancing gracefully around the room in her new blue silk dressing gown. She’d swept me into her arms, despite my protestations that I couldn’t dance, and had taught me how to waltz while the Victrola had provided the background music.

I was actually a pretty good dancer now, despite the fact that I’d proven to be very inept at it as an eighteen-year-old human, much to Rhodes and Asha’s dismay. They’d spent an entire evening once trying to teach me a simple medieval round dance, and had passed most of it laughing at my gawkiness.

The Victrola was nice and so was the dancing, but the bed was nicer: beautifully crafted and strong. Rhodes and I had spent most of that first day of its arrival testing its strength. The Chesterfield was rarely used now, since both of us preferred passing our home-bound hours curled up together on the comfortable feather tick mattress, reading or making love.

Since she’d come back into my life, no day was ever like the day before. I never knew what awaited me when I started home from the hospital. Some days were necessarily spent indoors because of the weather, listening to Enrico Caruso—Rhodes’ current musical obsession—or reading. But when the clouds moved in, we ventured out.

We spent those foul-weather days walking the waterfront together, holding hands and talking about whatever topic struck our fancy. We visited the Biloxi lighthouse rather often, and talked with Maria, the old woman who’d been faithfully tending the light for the past twenty years. While the cool, brisk winds of autumn kept most Biloxians indoors, we strolled along the “Avenue of Oaks” on Benachi Avenue and underneath the Spanish moss that swayed from the trees there. Occasionally, we ventured into Davis Brother’s Store when she got the urge to shop for odds and ends.

We visited Beauvoir, Jefferson Davis’s home place, during one afternoon stroll. Since Rhodes knew nothing of American history, I’d spent most of the walk explaining who Mr. Davis had been, and the important role he’d played in United States history. We were only able to see it from the outside, as it was now being used as a home for injured Civil War veterans.

On one particularly gloomy morning, we drove Daniel’s motorcar to the docks, which seemed to take half of the day in itself. There, we hired a small boat and rowed a short distance across the gulf to Deer Island. We sloshed around its marshy ground for hours taking pictures of alligators, terrapins and osprey with Rhode’s new toy, a Brownie camera. It had turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable day that had ended with a nude swim in the ocean, which had, of course, been Rhodes' idea.

Eventually, I began to take part of Sunday nights for myself. I still went to the hospital and spent the dinner hour with Alice, but immediately upon tucking her into bed, I returned home to Rhodes, where we escaped into the night. A couple of times we hunted, but the rest of the time we ended up at one of the major hotels in town for a night of gambling, which happened to be yet another one of Rhodes' current fascinations.

All in all, there was never a dull moment with her around. She enriched my life in ways that I’d never thought possible with her spontaneity. I loved it, and I loved her.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

_**Friday morning, November 16, 1906** _

 

My room was dark. Rain was hitting the window and making loud pecking noises. I wished it would stop. There was nothing to do. I was really bored. Morgan wouldn’t be here for a long time. I wished he worked in the daytime, too. If he were here, he’d find something interesting for us to do. He always did.

I didn’t want to color. There wasn’t anything left to draw. I’d already changed the clothes on my dolls over and over again until I was tired of that, too. I knew all the stories in my picture books, and I didn’t feel like jumping rope. What I really wanted to do was go looking around, but I knew better. Morgan had been really mad the last time I’d snuck out of my room. But I was so tired of this room. I wished I had Puppy. If he were here, we’d be rolling around in the floor. He’d bark and I’d laugh and Mommy would yell up the stairs for me to be quiet.

Before I started to cry, I quit thinking about Puppy and dragged out my magazines, but I’d already looked at them so many times I knew every picture in them. I pushed them aside and lay back on my pillow to daydream.

 _Wonder what Morgan is doing?_ His lady friend, Lissa, was probably cooking his breakfast right now just like Mommy did for Daddy. Or, they were getting to know each other, like Mary Grace and Wills. I had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t think I liked it. Lissa might get to know him too good and decide to marry him and take him away. Then what would I do? Who would teach me my lessons and scold me when I got lazy?

Mary Grace was nice. I loved her so much, but she wasn’t like Morgan. She hardly ever got cross with me. Morgan did…a lot. Especially when I got stubborn or started acting like an imp. I couldn’t help it. A giggle slipped out. It was so much fun being an imp and watching him wrinkle up his eyebrows and frown at me. But he never stayed mad at me for long, which was nice. Daddy would sometimes go for days without talking to me after one of my visions. Not Morgan. He always forgave me, no matter what I did, and he didn’t care that I saw things in my head.

Then I wondered what Mary Grace was doing. She was probably cooking breakfast for Wills and getting to know him some more. I tried to picture her kitchen in my head. I wondered if she wore a frilly apron like my Mommy did while she cooked. I wondered what her house looked like. Was it big like mine, with lots of rooms and plenty of places to hide from the grownups? Did she have a big back yard with a swing? With flowers and pretty…?

And then everything changed. I wasn’t imagining anymore. I was _seeing_ —seeing it all: Mary Grace’s house, the outside so pretty and clean and white, with a huge porch and a swing that you laid down on. And there were so many rooms! It was a really big house! And then it was dark, and I was inside it. Mary Grace’s home was so beautiful inside. I was sitting at her big dining room table and there was a birthday cake in front of me, with candles and everything! Morgan was standing in the corner smiling. Wills was there, and a bunch of kids that I didn’t know, and everyone was singing to… _me!_ It was a birthday party,  _my_ birthday party!! I was going to get to go to Mary Grace’s house and have a big party for my birthday! I watched myself open my presents, and they were really good presents too! Clothes and toys and candy!

Then the dream disappeared, but that was all right, because I was happy now. Not bored at all. I lay on my bed and thought about everything I had seen for a really long time, until lunch. I could hardly wait to tell Morgan about my vision. I bet he was going to be really surprised.

After the terrible lunch, which I barely ate, I crawled back onto my bed and stretched out. I stared at my ceiling and didn’t even notice the scary crack in it. I started to think about my birthday party, and then everything changed… _again._

Only this time, what I saw was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life, even better than my birthday party! I squealed really loud with happiness and then stuffed my pillow in my mouth to keep from getting in trouble. I couldn’t stop laughing and squealing, even though I knew it wasn’t a very lady-like thing to do. _Wait until Mary Grace hears about this! And Morgan, too!_

Finally, I quit giggling long enough to get out my paper and crayons. I had a lot of things to draw before Morgan and Mary Grace got here tonight.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

Something was wrong with Alice, seriously wrong. Nothing bad, of course, but still…

She was acting very strange. Grinning this tiny little mischievous grin that put me in mind of the Cheshire Cat in _Alice in Wonderland._ The more I thought about it, the more I began to think that our little Alice had a secret that she was bursting to tell, but she was exercising unusual restraint for one so young. No amount of prodding on my part had succeeded in prying it out of her.

Every time I peeked in her doorway as I went about my duties, she was hunched over her paper and crayons, scribbling away and grinning for all she was worth. I supposed I could have taken her papers from her and discovered the source of her glee, but I didn’t want to spoil her fun. She was enjoying herself immensely by holding this secret inside and teasing me with it. I was loathe to put a damper on her joy. It would all come out in good time, I supposed, or she would explode, whichever came first.

I met Mary Grace in the hall just prior to our dinner time to fill her in on Alice’s “condition.” She was as curious as I was, and as a result, we were both looking forward to the next hour and what it would bring.

“Hello, Alice. What have you got there?” Mary Grace made to look at Alice’s drawings, but she quickly stuffed them under her pillow and smiled up at her with the most fake innocent look that I had ever seen on anyone’s face. I had to fight my overwhelming urge to burst out in laughter.

“Nothing.”

Mary Grace’s shoulders slumped in defeat. I could have told her it wouldn’t be that easy.

Mary Grace and Alice ate in silence while I pretended to be absorbed in a textbook. There was no thought of any sort of instruction tonight, not with the way she was acting. Alice kept flashing her green eyes in our direction as she took her good sweet time eating. She’d grin occasionally and then turn her attention back to her food. Never since I’d known her had she taken such care with her meal. She was bedeviling us, especially me, and loving every second of it. _The little imp!_

“What did you do today?” I gave up the pretense of reading and started in on the laborious process of dragging this…whatever it was…out of her.

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

I glanced over at Mary Grace, which got me nothing but raised eyebrows and a shrug. “Must have been a boring day for you then.”

“Mmm…kind of.” Another shrug and a renewed focus on her dinner tray.

“Since when do you like peas?”

She was eating them one at a time, and savoring them like they were candy. _What an annoying little tease you are, Alice._ I had this growing urge to just yank her up from her bed and shake her little body until her secret fell out of her.

“They’re good for me.” She grinned and flashed those eyes at me again. “That’s what you told me.”

I clasped my hands together and thought for a moment. Mary Grace was watching and smiling. She’d already given up the fight, apparently, and was leaving the extraction of whatever this was up to me. I decided to try the direct approach again. I stood and joined her at her bedside. “Did something happen today that you’d like to tell us about?”

“Maybe.”

I growled softly underneath my breath, so softly that neither one of them could hear. My frustration with this tiny little pixie was growing larger by the second.

“You know what I think? I think you have a very big secret, a really juicy secret that you’re dying to tell, but that you’re _not_ telling because you’re having so much fun annoying me. Am I correct?”

A giggle. “Yes.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Mary Grace chuckled as well.

“So, what’s it going to take to get it out of you?” I was willing to do anything at this point. Groveling on my hands and knees wasn’t out of the question.

“The magic word. You never said the magic word, Morgan.”

 _Oh for the love of…_ She’d put me through all of this just because I hadn’t said please??

I slid a glance at Mary Grace. She shrugged and grinned crookedly. “You’re the one who taught her that. Gotta practice what you preach, I always say.”

 _Good grief._ She was enjoying herself now as much as Alice was. Both of them were cut from the same cloth.

I sighed, smiled and then bowed slightly from the waist as I began eating my crow. “Alice, would you be so gracious as to… _please_ …tell Mary Grace and I whatever it is that is making you behave in such an annoying manner this evening?” And then I added another one, just to be sure. “Please?”

“I’m having a birthday party at Mary Grace’s house with cake and candles and lots of presents! I love the dress you bought me! And the kaleidoscope! And I’m so happy you’re coming, Morgan! And Mary Grace, your house is sooo pretty! What is that swing thing on the porch that you lay down in?”

Mary Grace sighed expansively and muttered, “So much for trying to surprise her.”

All I could do was shake my head and smile. We should have known better than to try and plan a surprise party, but neither one of us had actually taken her gift into consideration. It was so erratic, after all. “I take it you’re happy then?”

She jumped from the bed and into my arms and squeezed my neck with every bit of strength she possessed in her little arms. Squeals of ‘yes! yes! yes!’ pierced the air as she hugged me and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist. Mary Grace was dabbing at her eyes, and I would have been too, if it were possible. I lived for such moments when unbridled joy took over Alice’s entire body and spread its warmth to everyone around her. When she finally loosened her grip on me, I settled her back down on her bed. Thank goodness that was over with. Now maybe we could get things back to normal.

“But there’s one present you forgot," she said.

“What is that?” Mary Grace asked, as she glanced up at me in alarm. We’d spent literally hours the past weeks mulling over the perfect gifts and had thought we’d covered everything that Alice could possibly want or need.

“A rocking chair. I need my own rocking chair right there in that corner so I can rock the babies.”

A rocking chair? The babies?? Mary Grace was confused and so was I.

Alice looked at both of us and grinned. “You’re going to have two babies, Mary Grace. Two little boys. I saw it.”

She pulled the pictures out from underneath her pillow and offered them to Mary Grace. Mary Grace rose slowly from her seat and took them from her hand. She flipped through them, one-by-one.

“I’m pregnant?” Her voice hitched and then the crying started in earnest. Alice jumped off the bed and wrapped her arms around Mary Grace’s legs. She scooped her up into her arms and they laughed and cried together.

I felt a little at odds, and decided to wait out the tears before offering my congratulations. I was happy for Mary Grace and Wills, but I had no control over the feelings of sadness that were starting to creep in around the edges of my heart.

When Alice and Mary Grace parted, I did what was expected of me. I smiled and offered her my hand. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Wills, and for Alice as well.”

“Thank you, Morgan. Two boys, twins! Imagine that!” She was bubbling with excitement now. They both were.

“What are you going to name them?” Alice was already immersing herself into this pregnancy in much the same way she’d done with the wedding.

“Oh that’s easy. Wills and I have already talked about this, believe it or not, on our honeymoon. It’s to be Matthew and Mark—two of the Disciples. Remember Jesus’s disciples?”

As Alice and Mary Grace chattered in the background, the pain came back, that sharp twisting of the knife that ripped and tore at my insides without mercy, that horrible agony that simply refused to stay gone.

 _Matthew._ Katherine had chosen the name for our son and for the same reason: he was one of Jesus’s beloved disciples. I’d humored her and went along with it, as I’d not had any better name to substitute in its place. I’d chosen the girl’s name: Elizabeth… _Libby_. But as fate had had it, we’d produced a son together. Matthew.

I’d lost Katherine on the birthing bed, and then not long after I’d lost Matthew. After that, I’d purposely avoided situations that placed me in close proximity to infants and small children. Alice had proven to be the only exception to that rule in over two hundred and fifty years, and that was only because she was my singer. Now, I was in a situation I’d never wanted to be in. I was happy for Mary Grace, I truly was, and for Alice, as well. The next nine months were going to be filled with nothing but joy for her, provided everything proceeded smoothly.

For me? It was going to be hell no matter what happened.  


* * *

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Rhodes and I were sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, our bare feet dangling in the salt water, as a cold rain misted down from the sky. I was sure the rare passerby thought us insane. We were soaked to the skin, but oblivious to everything and everyone but each other.

“A nurse that I work closely with at the hospital is pregnant. She said if it's a boy she's going to name him Matthew. I’ve been thinking about him and Daniel ever since. I can’t seem to stop myself.”

“I’m so sorry.” Rhodes pushed my soaked cowlick back from my eyes, where it promptly fell back again.

“This grief, it never leaves. It’s eating away at both of us. At least I’ve managed to keep it from taking over my life, like what happened when Asha died. But Daniel, he was very close to Matthew. He loved him like he was his own son. He isn’t coping with his death very well. He’s become very self-destructive, like I once was. I’m worried about him, and I’m worried about _me._ How am I going to handle being around this child who will carry my son’s name? Even if he looks nothing like him, just the name alone is going to constantly trigger my memories of him.”

She grabbed my hand and threaded her fingers in with mine. “Grief is a process. I think, perhaps, that you and Daniel aren’t completely through it yet.”

“It’s been over two centuries.”

She squeezed my fingers in sympathy. “I don’t think we can hold ourselves to the same timetable as humans. We love longer and deeper than humans, so why should our grief be any different? Perhaps you’ve never fully grieved Matthew’s loss, even though you may think you have. Maybe this forthcoming child of your nurse will be a blessing to you, instead of a source of pain like you imagine. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that little boy helped you to finally heal?”

“It would be…yes.” Although I couldn’t imagine such a thing happening. “But what about Daniel? Who is going to help _him_ heal?”

She raised our clasped hands to her lips and kissed my fingers. “I may be overstepping my bounds here, but I think the only person who can do that is you. The two of you lived this moment in your lives together, and you suffered the losses together. The two of you have to _heal_ together as well, not apart, like you are now.”

I shook my head in angry frustration at just the thought of trying to help him. “He’s so god-damned stubborn! He won’t listen to a word I say!”

“Then you’ve got to make him listen. Find a way to get through to him. The two of you are very close. I could tell that just from listening to him speak of you. It’s obvious, even to me, that this separation isn’t doing either one of you any good.”

On that one point, Rhodes was absolutely wrong. That separation had saved my life. Daniel had come very close to dragging me back into the life I’d led after Asha’s death, although it hadn’t been his intent to do so. Nevertheless, my flight from Europe, and from him, had been a necessary step at the time.

“May I say something? Something personal? And please don’t be angry with me for saying it.”

“Of course.”

She hesitated, making me wonder what was coming and why I would possibly be angry with her for it.

“You and Daniel are more than just friends.”

Oh no. I did _not_ want to have this conversation with Rhodes. Not now, not after we’d grown so close these past weeks. “What would make you think such a thing?” I chuckled and brushed the entire matter off like it was silly.

“There are pictures of you all over the man’s house. Let’s see, there’s a very large charcoal portrait of you over the mantle in his living room. Then there’s the full-length nude on the wall facing his desk in his study and, that’s not counting the stack I found in the next-to-the-bottom drawer of his wardrobe—pictures of you reading, you staring off into the distance, you smiling, you scowling, and on and on. The man is obsessed with you, if I were to make an educated guess.”

“You were snooping in his personal belongings?! Did he know it?”

“No, I’m very sneaky.” She grinned rather mischievously, reminding me of another person I knew who behaved in much the same impish way.

“You’re lucky. I got caught the one time I invaded his privacy. It upset him greatly, but he didn’t even raise his voice to me. Nevertheless, I never did that again.”

“Then, you are….?” She left the rest of the question hanging silently in the air.

I was very reluctant to confide in her. What would she think? And more importantly, would she call it a day, pack her things and leave when she heard the truth?

“You might as well tell me. I’ll get it out of you one way or another, you know.”

And she certainly could. Rhodes’ vampire gift was a very powerful and convenient one. All she had to do was touch you, then catch hold of your eyes for just a few seconds, and you’d spill your guts to her whether you wanted to or not. Nothing but the absolute truth would come out of your mouth no matter how hard you tried to lie, and it worked on humans and vampires alike.

I sighed in defeat. “Yes, Daniel and I were more than just friends. He’s a lover of men, and says he has been for as long as he can remember. And although I didn’t share his proclivities, I found myself drawn to him for reasons I still haven’t figured out. We were lovers for nearly seventy years, from the night I met him, up until that mess with the Volturi. We separated for a very short time while I was with Katherine, but got back together after her death. But I assure you, we aren’t lovers any longer. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in a very long time, since 1709 to be exact.”

“I thought so.”

And that was all she had to say in response to my confession. Was that supposed to tell me anything? Like whether she thought less of me? Or whether she could still take me to her bed after knowing I’d been with a man? “So, how do you feel about that?” I asked nervously.

She smiled crookedly. “I’m trying to picture that in my head, actually.”

I groaned in mortified embarrassment. "Please don't do that."

She shrugged and chuckled. “Can’t help it. It’s very erotic. I mean, the man’s got charisma, that’s for damned sure. I can see why you were attracted to him. He’s very handsome, charming, and funny—just the type you gravitate to. Look at me. I’m exactly like that, except for the handsome part, and you’re totally head-over-heels in love with me.”

I breathed an inward sigh of relief. She wasn’t angry, or shocked, or hurt or anything I’d thought she would be. She laughed and pulled my face to hers. A long and deep kiss, which tasted like Rhodes mixed with fresh rain, let me know that our love was safe, regardless of what had taken place in the past between Daniel and me.

“Let’s go back home. We’ll get rid of these wet clothes, dry each other off, and forget about all the sad stuff. Let's just crawl underneath the warm blankets on our really nice feather bed and spend the rest of the day making love. What do you say?”

It sounded perfect. “I love you, Rhodes.”

She smiled, jumped up and tugged on my arm. “Just thank the Good Lord we didn’t bring that slow-assed motorcar of Daniel’s. Let’s go!”

We took off, running so fast no human eye would have registered our passing. So fast that we left all the sorrow behind us, back at the docks.

As long as I had Rhodes by my side, there was no room for sadness.

 


	34. Cause for Celebration

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**Saturday evening, November 17, 1906** _

 

“Pronounce the alphabet, Alice.” Her dinner tray was mostly empty and it was now time to get to work, but getting her to focus on reading was proving most difficult this evening.

“Have the babies moved yet?” Alice ignored me and directed her question at Mary Grace, who was busy tidying up the toys scattered about the foot of her bed.

“No.” She chuckled. “It’s much, much too soon for that, honey. You just told me I was pregnant yesterday.”

“When will they move?”

“Not for several months yet, sweetie.”

“Have you bought them any baby clothes?”

“Oh dear me, no. I haven’t even thought of that yet.”

“What are their middle names going to be?”

Mary Grace snuck a glance at me, and I was sure my growing annoyance didn’t escape her attention. She laughed softly. “Perhaps you’d better pronounce your alphabet or else Morgan’s brow is going to end up permanently wrinkled. He’d look rather funny if his face froze that way, don’t you think?”

Alice covered her mouth and giggled. I smiled, my frown evaporating at the sound of her delightful laugh. I wondered who would ever be able to stay angry at Alice for very long. Certainly not I.

“I know my Queen has more important duties to attend to, but might she spare the time to recite the alphabet for her most humble servant, Morgan Grant?” I asked, injecting a great deal of regal formality into my request.

She straightened her little back as straight as a rod, raised her chin, and tried desperately to hold in her giggles as she started chanting the alphabet. “A says a, a, a. B says buh, buh, buh. C says kuh, kuh, kuh. D says duh, duh, duh.” A tiny giggle escaped. “E says eh, eh, eh. F says fuh, fuh, fuh.”

At that moment, Mrs. Filkins entered the room and Alice stopped her recitation dead in its tracks. “Waste of time teaching her a bunch of nonsense she’s not even going to need,” Mrs. Filkins muttered underneath her breath while avoiding my gaze.

Mary Grace ceased her straightening. Alice watched nervously. Every eye in the room followed Mrs. Filkins as she opened and shut the door of Alice’s cabinet and then stalked across the room to peer into the small storage closet in the corner.

“Some of the rooms seem to be missing the necessary supplies, Mr. Grant. You’re being negligent in your duties,” she announced arrogantly.

“You’re mistaken. I restocked my rooms when I first arrived this evening.”

“You mean, _after_ you spent a half hour fawning over the princess,” she retorted.

“A greeting does not constitute 'fawning' and I certainly did not spend a half hour doing it,” I shot back. “In any case, the patients’ needs are more important than their towels, don’t you agree?”

She stared down her nose at me. I fought to keep my composure in front of Alice and Mary Grace, when what I really yearned to do was break another one of her appendages.

“I want each room rechecked, and every item that is _supposed_ to be there, better be there before your shift is over,” she ordered haughtily. “Rest assured I’ll check behind you.”

She swept by us and marched out of the room. Mary Grace raised her eyebrows at me in silent question.

“She’s wrong. I restocked all the rooms first thing this evening,” I offered, shrugging.

“I wouldn’t put it past her to take the things out herself just so she could blame you for their absence,” Mary Grace said. “She has to be the most disagreeable woman I’ve ever come across.”

“Mrs. Filkins is going to be gone for a long time,” Alice announced suddenly.

Mary Grace and I looked at each other in confusion and then at Alice. “What do you mean? Have you had a vision?” I asked.

Alice nodded. “Today. I saw her fall down the steps at church. She’s going to break her leg.”

Mary Grace’s mouth dropped open in shock. She turned and looked at me. I looked back at her, and I could almost hear what she was thinking as if she were speaking aloud. Neither of us gave a damn that Mrs. Filkins was going to break her leg, and I suspected that Alice didn’t care either. In fact, the news that she was going to be gone for awhile was rather heartwarming and cause for celebration.

“I should warn her.” Alice’s small voice broke the silent conversation Mary Grace and I had been having with our eyes.

Mary Grace sighed and looked very pointedly at me. _Yes, Mary Grace. I know._

We now had a dilemma on our hands. I was fairly certain that Alice didn’t really want to warn her, but instead was falling victim to her conscience. Her sadness at not being able to warn the people who’d died in the earthquake had left a permanent black mark upon her tiny soul. She now felt compelled to help those whose misfortunes manifested themselves in her visions.

Frankly, I was astounded at the level of goodness in her little heart. Any other child who had been mistreated in like manner would have shown much less compassion for their tormentor than Alice was showing for Mrs. Filkins. _Such maturity in one so small._ Even though none of us wanted to do the right thing, teaching Alice to do the morally correct thing was, unfortunately, of paramount importance at this moment.

I approached her bed and sat down beside her. “You’re right, of course. We should warn her, but how do you think she would react if _you_ tried to warn her?”

The little wheels inside her head began to turn, and it didn’t take long for them to reach the correct conclusion. “She’d get mad and put me in that room. Then she’d tell the doctor and he’d ask me a bunch of questions again.”

“That’s right.” I smiled sadly, reaching out a hand to smooth her hair down. “She wouldn’t believe you and she’d punish you. But what would be even worse than that would be when it really happened and she realized your visions come true. We don’t want the doctor to know that.”

Alice glanced at Mary Grace. She joined us on the bed. “Morgan’s right, honey. It would be best if the warning came from one of us. That way, she couldn’t connect it to your visions.”

 _“I’ll_ warn her. How does that sound?” I suggested. Alice’s huge green eyes studied me intently. Finally she nodded her approval of that idea. “I’ll take care of it tonight. I promise. But she still may not even listen to an adult. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but sometimes people just don’t want to believe what’s right in front of their noses. We’ll try and warn her, but if she refuses to heed our warning, then we’ve done all that we can do. Do you understand?”

Alice nodded silently as she shifted this burden from her small shoulders onto my broader ones. She trusted me implicitly to do as I’d promised, and I was going to fulfill that promise…sort of.

And since we were on the topic of visions, this seemed an appropriate time to raise a question to her that had been nagging at me for some time. “Do you ever have any visions of me?”

She’d seen the earthquake, seen Mary Grace’s impending death and marriage, and most recently her pregnancy. And now she’d witnessed Mrs. Filkin’s upcoming accident. It would have been nice to have had advanced warning about Celine, James, and Rhodes’ unexpected arrivals in my life.

“No,” she whispered. Then her bottom lip began to quiver. “I’ve tried, Morgan. I think about you really, really hard but I can’t see anything. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes began to tear up. I had no idea that my question would bring forth the sadness in her that lay always just beneath the surface. I gathered her against my chest and hugged her tight. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” I crooned as I stroked her hair. “It’s not important. I was merely curious. It’s all right if you can’t see anything about me.”

“But I want to!” she cried tearfully, her voice muffled against my chest. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you! I want to warn you if something bad is going to happen!”

I pulled her away and wiped the tears from her face with my fingers. Mary Grace sat behind her patting her shoulder in sympathy. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I’m going to be a part of your life for a very long time. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I promise you that.”

“Cross your heart, hope to die?” she asked me, sniffing. “Stick a needle in your eye?”

I laughed softly. “Yes. I cross my heart and hope to die.” I made the sign of the cross over my heart, even though an oath on the cross held no meaning whatsoever for me. “And I’ll most certainly stick a needle in my eye if my Queen requires it.”

A small giggle erupted through the sniffing and wiping at her face.

“There’s more to that rhyme,” Mary Grace interjected. “It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye. Jam a dagger in my thigh. Then eat horse manure pie.’”

Alice looked at us both strangely. “What’s manure?”

“That’s poop,” Mary Grace whispered into her ear and then smiled.

Alice thought about that for a few moments. “Ewwwwwwww!” she exclaimed finally, and then erupted into a flood of uncontrollable giggles and more exclamations of ‘ewww!’.

I chuckled and gave Mary Grace a thankful look for saving the day with her unique sense of humor. “I’ve never heard those last lines before.”

“My sister and I made them up,” she answered, grinning. “We were quite naughty little girls.”

We finally calmed Alice’s giggling long enough for her to finish reciting the alphabet sounds. Then Mary Grace and I said our temporary goodbyes to her and left to resume our duties.

I rechecked all of the rooms in my section and only a few things were missing—items that I specifically remembered stocking earlier. Mary Grace wasn’t far off the mark with her comment of before. Mrs. Filkins had evidently switched tactics. Instead of facing me head-on, she was now on a mission to damage my work reputation through subterfuge. Thankfully, she’d be gone before she could do very much damage.

I set off in search of her to issue my promised warning. I intercepted her shortly thereafter as she was leaving her tiny office. She tried to step around me, but I blocked her exit.

“Mr. Grant, what do you want?! I have things to do!”

“How is your finger? Is it healing properly?”

She glared at me without answering. “Move out of my way.”

Once again, I shifted my body to prevent her from leaving. “You may want to take extra caution from now on. With your age, and your tendency to break bones, you can never be too careful.”

I stepped aside and allowed her to leave, but not without a smirk and soft laugh to send her on her way.

Promise kept. She’d been warned. Sort of…

 

* * *

 

“Her birthday is only a week away, and she knows everything about it. She’s not going to be surprised at all.”

Mary Grace was the picture of complete dejection as she sat across from me in the staff room with her elbow propped on the table and her chin in her hand. We’d just a few minutes ago tucked Alice in for the night with a bedtime story and plenty of kisses, and were now meeting surreptitiously to discuss her birthday party next Sunday.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m so thankful for Alice’s gift. I mean, she saved my life with it. But on the other hand, in more trivial matters such as this party, it’s downright annoying! How is anyone supposed to surprise someone who can see everything before it happens? It takes all the fun out of everything.”

It was very unsettling for me to see Mary Grace so disheartened and so far removed from her normal exuberance. I had to do something to lift her spirits. Ever since my earlier conversation with Alice about her inability to see me in her visions, an idea had been forming in my head. “Perhaps I have a solution for that.”

“What?” she asked with very little enthusiasm.

“According to Alice, she can’t see my future.” I left that statement hanging in the air to see what Mary Grace would do with it.

She straightened her body and I could almost see the thoughts, the questions churning in her mind. “You’re right. She _did_ say that.” She focused that blue gaze of hers on my face. “Why is that?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.” Actually I _did_ have an idea. It had to be because I was no longer human. That was the only explanation for it, but I couldn’t share that with Mary Grace, of course, so I professed complete ignorance. “But perhaps this would be a good opportunity to test it. I could buy her another gift and not tell you what I bought, and then we’ll see if she’s surprised at the party. What do you think?”

A small smile started at the corners of her mouth and then grew until it practically took over her face. “That’s a marvelous idea! My sister told me just yesterday that Davis Brothers received a whole slew of new merchandise for Christmas. I haven’t been there to see any of it, so you could buy her something there and I wouldn’t know. And, oh my goodness, you could take Lissa with you! I’m sure she’d love to shop for a sweet little girl like Alice. Maybe a new dress or some incredibly fabulous toy, or….”

“Mary Grace!” I interrupted her with a laugh. If I hadn’t she would have gone on forever, or at least until she had to stop and take a breath. “I get the picture. I will go as soon as possible and buy her something completely astounding, something she won’t be expecting. If she’s surprised, then we’ll have our very own secret weapon to use against that annoying little gift of hers. And I can assure you that Lissa will assist me. She never turns down an opportunity to shop.”

“This is wonderful!” Mary Grace’s enthusiasm was back and it made me smile inside. “And guess what else? Wills had a really splendid idea the other night. He suggested we combine Thanksgiving dinner with Alice’s birthday. I’ve been thinking about it and I think it would be perfect, since the two are so close together. What do you think?”

“I think Wills is a very considerate man. That’s a wonderful idea.”

I’d already resigned myself to the fact that I would have to eat some birthday cake to appear normal at Alice’s party. I sighed inwardly at the thought of having to add turkey and the fixings on top of that. But, if it made Alice happy, I’d gladly stuff myself and suffer the consequences later.

“You need to bring Lissa. We’re dying to meet her.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Rhodes’ bright scarlet eyes would most certainly raise some eyebrows, and there was no way to explain them. “Lissa won’t be able to attend, I’m afraid. She’s going to be visiting with her family during that time.”

Mary Grace voiced her extreme disappointment, but there was nothing to be done about it. It was a shame, really, because I had a feeling that Rhodes and Mary Grace would have gotten on quite well together. They had similar temperaments.

“I’ve noticed something about you.” Mary Grace was now sporting one of those incomprehensible smiles again, the ones that women get when they speak of love. “Every time you say her name, you smile. It’s obvious that Lissa makes you very happy, and I’m so glad of that. It’s almost like you’re a completely different person now. You laugh much more than you used to, and quicker. It’s a very nice change. How did you meet her? I’m so curious.”

This was the second time Mary Grace had expressed her curiosity about Rhodes. I knew she wasn’t going to give up until her questions were answered. I gave up and decided right then and there to just get it over with. I began at the beginning. 

“She was a close friend of my wife’s.” I waited for the shock that I knew was coming. I’d never revealed to anyone in Biloxi that I’d been married. In fact, I’d revealed very little at all about myself, out of necessity.

“You were married?! I had no idea. What happened?” Her voice softened on the last question.

“She died unexpectedly of some ailment we couldn’t even pronounce. Lissa and I were devastated by her death. The three of us were very close. We did everything together, and then suddenly one of us was gone. It left a gaping hole that neither Lissa nor I knew how to fill. We drifted apart after that, but not before Lissa confessed to me that she loved me.”

Mary Grace sighed and placed her hand over her heart. I was sure she thought the whole thing very sweet and romantic, but the reality of it had been so far removed from that. To even think of it again made me wish for the long-lost ability to cry.

“But I was grieving too much to even consider loving anyone else. I turned my back on her. I walked out and left her to deal with her grief alone. It wasn’t until much later that I realized what I’d let slip through my fingers. Looking back on it all, I think I always loved Lissa. I know that sounds scandalous, considering I was married to her best friend, but sometimes I think it’s possible to fall deeply in love with more than one person at a time.”

“I think you’ll be surprised to know that I completely agree with you. It’s not scandalous at all. Love isn’t black and white, by any means. It can be very complicated.”

She had no idea _how_ complicated, since I currently loved two people very, very deeply: Rhodes and Daniel. Rhodes was a part of my life now, a fact for which I was extremely grateful, and I was enjoying every moment with her. Daniel, on the other hand, might as well have been living on the other side of the world instead of Atlanta. Our estrangement was as wide and deep as the ocean. But, as I’d discovered with Rhodes, emotional and physical distance did nothing to decrease your love for another person. In fact, it seemed to increase it. And then to make matters even more complicated, there was Alice.

“We saw each other occasionally after that, but nothing ever came of it. I think Lissa didn’t like the man I’d become very much. I was extremely bitter over my wife’s death. I was a little… _self-destructive_ …in those days. Our friendship was very strained during that time. Then, she just showed up on my doorstep out of the blue. You can’t imagine how shocked I was, but happy as well. For some reason, I’ve been given another chance to love her, and I’m so thankful for it. It’s been a very long and lonely time for me these last years and she’s brought so much love and warmth into my life.”

Mary Grace was now dabbing at her eyes with the edges of her work apron. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “Happy endings always do that to me. I cried at my own wedding, for goodness sakes. That is such a romantic story. Thank you for sharing that with me. It makes me believe all over again in the power of love. Lissa’s very lucky to have you. I hope she knows that.”

“It’s actually the opposite. I’m very lucky to have _her._ I’m not an easy man to love. I think I told you that once before, and I assure you its quite true. I’ve made a great many mistakes in my life, and I’m so thankful that Lissa is willing to overlook them, even forgive me for them. I’m not sure I deserve her love, but I welcome it, and I’m not taking a second of it for granted this time.”

That brought another round of tears which had me apologizing to Mary Grace for upsetting her so.

“Are you kidding?” she exclaimed, laughing through her tears. “This is the best cry I’ve had in a very long time. Thank you.”

I wasn’t sure I understood that sentiment, but decided not to question it. Women’s emotions were sometimes very incomprehensible to me. She patted my hand and then got up abruptly and left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I could have very easily sunk into another state of depression if I allowed myself to. Thoughts of Asha and her death often led me down that lonely road. Thinking of Daniel and the path he’d chosen for his life, along with his continued absence from mine had the same effect as well, but I chose not to go there. Instead, I thought about Rhodes waiting for me at home. I had no idea what mischief she’d want to get me into upon my arrival. The not knowing was part of the fun when it came to her. I’d never found shopping to be an activity I enjoyed, but I was strangely looking forward to Christmas shopping with her. With Rhodes, anything could happen.

 

* * *

  
_**Monday morning, November 19, 1906** _

 

“Oh god, Michael, I love you,” Rhodes’ gasped.

Her warm body was wrapped around mine. My fingers were tangled all up in her hair and our breathless moans filled the early morning stillness of our bedroom. The pleasure of our lovemaking had yet to fade as we lay in each other’s arms and delivered soft, lingering kisses upon the other.

A particularly deep moan issued from Rhodes’ throat. “I could do this all day long, and never get out of this bed.”

“Mmmm, that idea sounds splendid,” I murmured. “Except for the fact that I have to go out today. I have some last-minute shopping I have to do.”

“Shopping?” That perked her up. “You hate shopping.”

I explained my need to buy a birthday present for one of my patients—a soon-to-be six-year-old little girl who’d been abandoned in the hospital by her parents—and I also added in the fact that Davis Brothers had gotten in a new shipment of merchandise for the holidays. Rhodes was up and out of the bed in an instant and digging around in her clothes for something to wear.

She peeked between the curtains. “Ooh, perfect! Gloomy weather. Get dressed, Michael! Let’s go, so everything won’t be picked over!” Then with a wink, “Take plenty of money, too.”

I smiled as I watched her get dressed. Even after nearly nine hundred years of living, Rhodes was still excited with all that life on Earth had to offer. It was so easy to get caught up in her unbridled enthusiasm. I slid out of bed, and joined her in the search for the proper attire necessary to shop the morning away.

 

* * *

  
The cloudy, overcast sky cast a shadow of gloom over Biloxi, while the glass storefront of Davis Brothers glowed with electric lights, the equivalent of thousands of lit candles. The store had changed its displays since the last time Rhodes and I had visited to browse. Gone were the ladies and men’s hats and the latest fashions from Europe. The small paned windows were now filled with nothing but toys of all shapes and sizes and contrivances.

A small brass bell jingled when we entered the store, not that anyone noticed. The inside was very crowded, even at this early hour. There was so much to look at that Rhodes decided it would be best for us to split up so we could cover more ground.

I wandered over to the display of toys on the left side of the store. Everything imaginable was set out in an eye-catching manner guaranteed to pull children and their parents from the outside in. Dolls all dressed in the latest finery were propped upright with their accessories placed strategically around their feet. The new Teddy Bears sat everywhere, along with the usual wooden blocks, children’s books, stick horses and tin wind-up toys. But it was what took up the entire center of the window display that caught my eye and held me mesmerized for the longest time.

A train set. A Lionel train set, according to the small sign attached to it. The No. 5 electric locomotive decorated for the Baltimore & Ohio in a shiny red finish was moving slowly in a continuous circle along a metal track. I watched it make a trip around the circle. And then another. And then another. It was fascinating. I bent over and peered closely at the wheels, trying to figure out what made them turn. There was a small box attached underneath the train. Perhaps that was the source of power.

“I don’t think your little girl would appreciate a train.” Rhodes was suddenly at my side. I stood up as her quiet laughter interrupted my examination of the locomotive. The source of its movement still remained a mystery. I didn’t want to leave until I’d solved it.

“I find it fascinating.”

Then a wave of sadness suddenly swept over me from out of nowhere and took me by surprise. A long ago picture of my son playing with a similar toy, albeit much more primitive, swam into focus in my mind. 

“Matthew would have loved something like this,” I said quietly, never taking my eyes from the still-moving train. Rhodes offered a soft, sympathetic noise along with the comfort of her hand on my arm. “He was fascinated with anything new that came along. He was a very curious boy. Daniel once spent an entire day and night carving a wagon out of a block of wood for him to play with. The wheels didn’t move, of course, but that didn’t stop Matthew from pushing it all over our house. When Daniel saw how much he loved it, he carved some figures to set inside the wagon: a cow, a pig and a farmer. Matthew played with it for hours sometimes. I wonder what he would think of something like this?”

“He sounds like he was a precious child. And of course he was curious. Look at who his father was. Asha used to very nearly pull her hair out at your constant questions about everything new we saw in our travels.” Rhodes smiled and squeezed my arm. “It’s good for you to talk about him. That’s helps, I think. I wish I’d been there to watch you with him. I have a feeling you were a very fine father.”

I laughed softly. “I appreciate the sentiment, but Daniel had much more patience than I did. He tended to spoil him, and I ended up being the mean parent much of the time.”

“It sounds like you two had a pretty good system worked out.” She chuckled and then her voice softened. “I wish I had known your son.”

I pushed away the grief that was rising to the surface. The middle of a crowded store was not the place to break down and create a scene. I smiled bravely in Rhode’s direction. “He was very… _unique..._ and very loved for the short time he was here.”

I think Rhodes sensed I was on the verge of losing control of my emotions. She quickly and thankfully changed the subject. 

“I think I found the perfect gift for your little patient, that is if she doesn’t have one already. Come look.”

She pulled me over to the middle of the store. The item in question was displayed on its own wooden table. It was a magnificent pink dollhouse with white embellishments around the windows and doors, and it wasn’t something Mary Grace had already bought. It was quite expensive, which was probably why it was still available for sale.

“Look back here.” Rhodes gestured for me to come around behind it. “Look at all the things that come with it.” There were countless tiny pieces of furniture: sofas, chairs, foot stools, beds, chests of drawers, and even a baby crib and a claw-footed tub. Several little dolls also came with it.

“It’s perfect, Rhodes!”

We went immediately to the counter and expressed our desire to buy it. While the man was gone, apparently to find the crate that it had come in, Rhodes pulled me to another part of the store.

“I want one of those.” She jabbed a finger at the most hideous contraption I’d ever seen, a huge metal monstrosity that looked to me to serve no purpose except to hurt the eyes of one forced to look at it.

“Rhodes, we have no need for that!”

“I don’t care. I want one,” she insisted stubbornly.

“What in heaven’s name are you going to do with it??”

“We’ll buy one of those—“she said, pointing her finger to another display alongside it. “—to go with it. No, we’ll buy one for every room.” Then she added the icing on the cake. The one thing she knew I couldn’t resist. “Please?”

I could see her crimson eyes dancing with excitement even through the gauze that dropped down from her hat to cover them. Making those eyes fill with sadness was not something I wanted to be responsible for doing. It was only money, after all. I had plenty.

“That’s fine. Buy whatever your heart desires.” I smiled as she wrapped her arms around me, and lifted the netting from her face, kissing me right there in the middle of the store. A soft exclamation of moral outrage from a woman near us had us both laughing as we reluctantly parted.

We took the now-crated dollhouse with us, after arranging for Rhodes’ items to be delivered tomorrow. Before we left, she asked if there was anything in the store that I wanted to buy for myself, but I shook my head. The only thing that even remotely held my interest was the train, and buying something so juvenile for myself was ridiculous. I scolded myself silently as we left the store. _What a frivolous idea for an eight-centuries-old man!_

 

 

* * *

 

_**Monday evening, November 19, 1906** _

 

“Did you find something?” Mary Grace had met me at the door as I’d arrived for work, and now eagerly awaited my answer, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“Yes, I found something, and Alice is going to love it. I guarantee you.”

She breathed a deep sigh of relief and then walked by my side as we made our way to Alice’s room.

“You’ll never believe what Lissa ended up purchasing,” I said with a short laugh. “She bought a Hoover and some rugs to go with it.”

Mary Grace stopped dead in her tracks with her mouth dropped open. Then she snapped it shut and when she spoke, it was with the hushed whispers of one saying prayers in a quiet church. “A Hoover.” She sighed with envy. “I’d kill for a Hoover. Lissa is so lucky to have one. Do you know how much time and effort it takes to hang and beat the dirt out of a house full of rugs?? You just plug that Hoover into the wall, and it sucks all the dirt out of your rugs while they’re lying on the floor! It’s a miracle, I’ll tell you! A miracle! The man who invented it is a genius!”

Now it was my turn for the mouth to drop open, figuratively instead of literally. “Plug it into the wall? You mean it runs on electricity?”

“Yes. You didn’t know that? It’s the greatest invention since the wheel in my opinion!” she said, obviously unable to believe that I didn’t share her sentiment.

“I don’t have electricity. I still use candles.” I laughed to myself as I imagined Rhodes trying to use her new Hoover without the necessary electricity to power it.

“Well then, I guess we know what _you’re_ getting for Christmas,” she said, grinning like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

And I knew what Mary Grace was getting for Christmas, as well.

Just before we rounded the corner to Alice’s room, Mary Grace stopped again. “Oh, and you are never going to believe what happened!” she exclaimed with a sly grin.

“Pray tell, what?” I asked, although I almost knew with a certainty what she was going to say.

“Mrs. Filkins fell at church on Sunday and broke her leg. Can you believe that?” She was shaking her head in mock disbelief and fighting back a smile.

“Unbelievable,” I said, agreeing with her. “And after I warned her about being more careful.”

“I know,” she said with a deep sigh. “Some people just don’t listen to good advice.” She made a few soft tsks and then shook her head. “Such sad news.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, adding my own insincere sympathy.

More like a cause for celebration. 

 


	35. Thanksgiving and a Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alice’s birthday in my story is November 25, 1900. It’s a completely fictional date because SM never told us her birth month or day, only the year (1901) which I set back one year for plot purposes. In 1906, her birthday fell on a Sunday, and the following Thursday, November 29, 1906 was proclaimed by President Theodore Roosevelt as the day for celebrating Thanksgiving. 
> 
> I set Alice’s birthday by consulting astrological charts. I decided on Sagittarius. (Nov. 22-Dec. 21). Here is the personality description of someone born in this time period. I think I chose well. These traits fit our little imp perfectly:
> 
> “This is a cheerful, spontaneous, and idealistic individual with an exceptional sense of humor. Sagittarians retain almost a child-like quality throughout their lives, always remaining optimistic and never fully accepting the seriousness inherent in day-to-day living. She is self-confident, positive, enthusiastic, and easy-going, Your Sagittarian will be a spontaneous, fun, energetic, even-tempered mate most of the time, but if you do something to irritate her, don't be surprised if she unleashes a surprising fiery side that will likely be sprinkled with the unvarnished, unflattering truth as she sees it. The best mate for Sagittarius is one who is strong, self-assured, independent, and adventurous, who is willing to give her the space she needs.”

**~ MORGAN ~**

 

_**Tuesday evening, November 20, 1906** _

 

“Where is this doll baby I’ve heard so much about? Aaah, there she is!” 

Before any of us could react, Alice was gathered up into the arms of a nurse, and was squeezed, hugged, patted and adored over for a very long time. I stole a glance at Mary Grace. She was smiling brilliantly.

“She’s Mrs. Filkins’ replacement,” she whispered to me. “The one I told you about.”

Finally, Alice was released from the woman’s ample bosom and allowed to breathe. Her little face was radiant with happiness; her green eyes danced with joy. My heart sang at the sight, as I concurrently wished for Mrs. Filkins’ to die from her injuries so she would never return.

“So you’re the little Mary Alice I’ve heard so much about.” The nurse sat down on the edge of the bed and gathered Alice onto her lap. She was an older woman, gray-haired and stout, but there was a warmth about her that radiated outward like sunbeams. She was most certainly someone’s loving grandmother, and was already well on her way to becoming Alice’s adopted one.

“I’m Mary Alice Brandon. What’s your name?” Alice asked politely.

“Ruby Elizabeth Barron,” the woman answered.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barron.” Alice smiled and nodded her proper greeting. I was very pleased she’d remembered her manners.

“Oh heavens no! Mrs. Barron is a really old lady and I am not that old yet!” Her body shook with her hearty laughter. “Just call me Nurse Ruby, honey. Everyone does.”

It was very improper for a child to call someone in authority by their given name, and Alice knew it, hence her mischievous look. She grinned and tested out the name. “Nurse Ruby,” she said, and then giggled behind her hand.

“And my, my, my. Look at those green eyes,” she said softly. “I’m a ruby and you have emeralds. You and me are just two precious jewels, aren’t we, honey?” Alice smiled sweetly as she was gathered into a big bear hug once again.

Finally, Mrs. Barron took notice of us. She settled Alice back onto the bed and rose to greet me with an outstretched hand. “You must be Morgan Grant. I’ve heard very good things about you from Mary Grace.”

We shook hands briefly and exchanged pleasantries. Her grip was strong for a woman, and spoke of her confidence, both in her position here and in her life outside the hospital.

She turned from me and embraced Mary Grace in a bear hug similar to the one she’d given Alice.

“I’m so glad you were able to step in for Mrs. Filkins,” Mary Grace offered when they finally parted. “Alice is in love with you already.”

“It’s my pleasure, dear. And speaking of Mrs. Filkins…” Then she shook her head and laughed. “Never mind. I suggest we just refrain from speaking of Mrs. Filkins at all. It’s very bad for the digestion.”

I smiled widely. The coming weeks were going to be extremely pleasant for all of us, for a change.

* * *

_**Wednesday morning, November 21, 1906  
** _

“You’re very buoyant this morning. Must have had a good night at the hospital.” Rhodes had her arms wrapped around my neck and seemed very pleased with my greeting, which had consisted of a great many deep and lingering kisses at the front door.

“I had a very good night. That disagreeable nurse is gone and no one misses her. Plus, I met her replacement tonight, and she is as different as night is from day—very kind and caring.”

“Good. I’m glad, because a happy Michael means a happy Rhodes. Now what shall we get into today? That dreadful sun is shining again isn’t it?” she asked, peering over my shoulder toward the kitchen window, which was heavily draped to the point that not even a crack of daylight could steal through.

“Yes, the sky looked clear as I came in.”

“Hell and damnation! I swear you need to move somewhere where it’s gloomy every day!” She flounced across the room and down onto the Chesterfield, sporting a playful pout.

“So you’re tired of my attentions already?” I joined her on the sofa and began kissing her neck and playing with her hair, which was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

“Oh I never tire of _that._ ” She sank back into my embrace and sighed softly.

I never tired of it either, nor could I ever get enough of her. Her love and acceptance were slowly healing the wounds I’d suffered in the past two hundred and fifty years. Only her God knew what my life would have been like had I chosen to stay with her after Asha’s death. But then again, if I’d chosen Rhodes I would have never met Daniel.

I mentally shook off all thoughts of him and the past, which had already been lived and couldn’t be changed, and focused on the warm, loving woman in my arms. We lingered on the sofa, exploring each other as if we’d just met, and then we eventually drifted into the bedroom. Making love with Rhodes was an experience unlike any other I’d had before. Asha and I had had a very pleasurable and satisfying physical relationship, even when I’d been human and she’d been afraid of hurting me. We’d had our intense moments of passion, of course, but on the whole, our lovemaking had been a very heartfelt and comforting act that had made me feel safe and cherished.

Daniel, on the other hand, had been a completely unpredictable lover: gentle one time and rough the next, in keeping with his volatile personality. He was a man who lived and loved with equal measures of intensity and tenderness. I’d never known from one night to the next what manner of man I would have in my arms, and therein laid the deep attraction I’d felt for him, and _still_ felt to this day.

 _Katherine._ The mother of my son. Making love to Katherine had been like embracing fire and allowing it to consume my body. Ours had been a fiery relationship from the beginning, burning more hot and intense than anything I’d experienced up to that point. She’d been my flame and I her moth, and we’d circled one another cautiously until the moment we’d both finally given in to the pull. I’d fought against it. I’d fought so hard to resist her because I’d known how badly it was going to hurt Daniel, but the attraction had been too strong.

Rhodes was different from all of them. She was my oasis in the middle of the barren desert that had become my life since I’d left Europe. Because of grief, our opportunity for love had slipped through our fingers, and then because of my thirst for revenge, we’d deliberately parted ways for what we’d thought at the time to be forever. Now that we’d rediscovered one another, we were very patient with our attentions. Many times, we consumed an entire afternoon with our slow and deliberate lovemaking. We loved, talked, laughed, and then loved some more, allowing our passions to rise and fall repeatedly until we could no longer hold them back. And even then, our coming together was tender, our cries of pleasure soft and deep. We were never rough with each other, never negligent of the other’s pleasure. She was everything I’d always dreamed she’d be.

 

* * *

 

“Mmmm, you always smell so nice.” Rhodes was nestled underneath the crook of my arm and curled up against my body. We were both completely relaxed and enjoying the lingering sensations of our lovemaking. She inhaled deeply and let the breath out with a sigh. “So many pleasant human scents on your skin. How do you resist them?”

“When I came here from Europe, I focused solely on strengthening my control. It had slipped considerably because of…well…because of Daniel, if I were to be honest.”

She scooted out from under my arm and propped herself up onto my bare chest. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were filled with the questions that I knew were coming. I silently berated myself for opening my big mouth and speaking so carelessly.

“Tell me about Daniel. Why are you not speaking to one another?”

I thought back to the time Daniel and I had lived in Romania and wished for nothing more than to forget the entire episode. We’d both been incredibly stupid and had let our emotions overrule clear-thinking logic.

“Daniel became very self-destructive after Matthew’s death. He dealt with his grief in much the same way I dealt with mine over Asha. At first I went along with his schemes, as I was also very angry, and in the midst of dealing with Matthew’s loss myself. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Neither of us was. I finally realized that Daniel was pulling me back into the lifestyle I’d led before I’d met him and I didn’t want that, for _either_ of us. We fought about it quite a lot, and quite violently at times, but there was no changing his mind or his path. He’s a very pig-headed man.

“That was how I ended up in that dungeon in Volterra. And by the way, thank you for your part in rescuing me. Carlisle told me of your involvement. You were gone by the time I escaped and I never got to offer my thanks.”

She smiled and kissed me tenderly. “You’re very welcome, and I’d do it all over again in an instant. Aro is an ass. Undermining his authority and making him unhappy gives me great pleasure.”

“After all of that mess was done, I left Europe,” I continued. “I made a clean break from Daniel and came here to America. I starved myself for months trying to figure out how long I could safely go between feedings. I was determined to curb my thirst as much as possible, and I finally accomplished it.”

“And you never contacted him to see how he was doing?”

I could hear the disapproval in her voice, but she hadn’t been there. She didn’t know how miserable we’d both become. Daniel and I had ceased making each other happy by the time things had fallen apart and I’d been captured by the Volturi. “No,” I answered simply. “I never saw or heard from him until one of his associates showed up on my doorstep a few months ago.”

Referring to Celine as his associate was like calling a hurricane a tiny breeze. What had the man been thinking getting himself involved with the likes of her? Instead of trying to figure out the workings of Daniel’s mind, I shook off all thoughts of him and changed the subject.

“Don’t forget, I’ll be gone most of the afternoon and evening this Sunday, depending on the weather, for the little girl’s birthday party. They’ve also decided to have Thanksgiving dinner at the same time.”

She sighed. “I wish I could come with you. It sounds like fun.”

I laid a finger on her nose and winked. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring back some birthday cake so we can eat it together and then throw it back up together.”

She growled and then furiously mussed my hair, which led to a playful, laughter-filled wrestling match on our bed. Good thing it was sturdy.

 

* * *

 

_**Saturday evening, November 24, 1906** _

 

“Alice, you’ve hardly eaten a thing!” Mary Grace stood beside the bed, hands on hips, and frowned down at Alice.

“I want to save room for the cake,” she said and then smiled mysteriously.

“We’re celebrating your birthday tomorrow, honey,” Mary Grace explained gently. “Not tonight. I thought you understood that.”

Alice grinned mischievously. “Nuh uh,” she said, shaking her head and swinging her silky hair from side-to-side. “Nurse Ruby is bringing me a birthday cake _tonight,_ and a new dress, hat and shoes to wear to my party, too. I saw it in my head this morning.”

Mary Grace and I looked at each other helplessly. The little imp was once again one step ahead of everyone else. And true enough, at that very moment, Mrs. Barron strode into the room with aforementioned cake in her hands, and a very large shopping bag hanging on her arm.

“Happy Birthday, honey!!”

Alice squealed with delight, clapped her hands and gave a very convincing performance of being surprised. I rolled my eyes at Mary Grace and she laughed along with me. Our little Alice, it seemed, was as talented an actress as Mary Pickford.

We all ate large helpings of birthday cake, even me. I dreaded having to expel it, but it was worth it to keep that look of pure joy on her tiny face.

Then I was forced to turn my back as she changed into her new outfit. The green fabric that Mrs. Barron had chosen for the dress went well with Alice’s eyes and dark hair. The hat seemed entirely too large for her small head, but Mary Grace simply laughed and assured me that that was the current fashion for little girls. Shiny black shoes and white socks finished off the outfit. Alice paraded around the room in it for a long time. We laughed as we watched her try to get used to keeping the hat level on her head. Just the slightest tilt had it sliding down to her chin. Mary Grace assured her that a few well-placed hat pins would hold it in place.

“Thank you.” Alice threw her arms around Mrs. Barron’s neck as she stooped down to pick her up.

“You’re very welcome, honey, and I hope you have a wonderful party tomorrow.”

After Mrs. Barron left the room, Mary Grace got Alice out of her new clothes after a few minutes of stubborn resistance on her part. With a promise to return later to tuck her in for the night, we settled her down with her paper and crayons before returning to our duties.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Mary Grace?”

Alice was tucked into bed in a soft blue gown that Mary Grace had bought for her with my money. Her Teddy Bear was tucked in tight beside her and her eyes were growing heavy with sleep.

“A patient in her ward is very sick. She had to stay and watch over him.”

Alice nodded her understanding. “Are you coming to my party tomorrow?”

I smiled and tenderly stroked her hair. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thank you for the kaleidoscope and the new dress,” she said, her voice growing soft with impending sleep. “And I’m sorry I already know everything that I’m going to get.”

I smiled to myself and thought about how wonderful it was going to be to see the look on her face when we surprised her with the dollhouse. “Don’t ever apologize for your gift. It’s a part of you just like the heart that beats in your chest. You wouldn’t be you without it.”

She smiled and reached for me. I leaned over to give her a goodnight kiss on her forehead. Her mesmerizingly sweet scent washed over me and inundated my senses with its allure. I closed my eyes and deliberately inhaled her into my lungs as I touched my lips to her skin, savoring the burn in my throat that accompanied it. The pain was much more tolerable now, but it would never go away. It was a continual hum inside my body, a tender ache that throbbed softly every moment that I was in her presence. I’d come to regard the pain as “my constant and ever-abiding friend.” I welcomed it, embraced it and didn’t want to even try to imagine my life without it.

 

* * *

 

_**Sunday afternoon, November 25, 1906** _

The morning dawned clear and cool. I paced the floor of my parlor and cursed the sun for its damnable inconvenient appearance in the sky. Rhodes laughed at my annoyance, and once again suggested a move to a location with utterly miserable weather the entire year round. Finally, in the mid afternoon, clouds rolled in over Biloxi. The sun went into hiding long enough for me and the dollhouse to make the short journey across town to Mary Grace’s house.

I stopped beside a very large tree in her front lawn and admired her beautiful home. It was light gray with white-trimmed windows, and had two main floors, complete with a circular tower at one corner. It appeared that the attic had rooms in it as well. An expansive veranda covered the entire front of the house, and I smiled at the sight of the hammock hanging in one corner—Alice’s “swing thing that you lay down on”. Overall, it was a warm and inviting house that seemed just the sort of place where Mary Grace would want to raise her family.

I heard the sound of laughter and pattering feet inside the house, and then Alice’s characteristic giggle. I picked up the crated dollhouse, took a deep breath of clean fresh air and walked up to the front door. My first knock went unnoticed, muffled by the loud chattering of children inside, no doubt. My second, much louder knock, was successful in getting an adult’s attention. Mary Grace and her husband Wills greeted me at the door. With a whispered hiss from her, Wills hurriedly took the dollhouse into an adjoining room and secured it behind a locked door. I was warmly ushered inside and immediately attacked by a blur of green and black.

“Morgan! You came!!” Alice was bouncing on her tiny feet and reaching up to me. I hoisted her into my arms and was subjected to a great many “squeezie hugs and smooshie kisses” as she called them. She wiggled out of my arms and dropped to the floor, and in a flash she ran down the hallway, her stockinged feet sliding all over the shiny hardwood floors.

“Should she be running through the house like that?” I asked, mystified that Mary Grace would allow such behavior inside.

Mary Grace patted my shoulder and smiled. “I normally wouldn’t allow it, but Alice is so confined in that hospital room. Let’s let her be free while she’s here, at least for a few hours.”

Of course, Mary Grace was correct. I decided to forget about manners and polite behavior for one afternoon and let her just be a little girl.

Mary Grace gave me a tour of her home, informing me along the way that the house had belonged to her grandmother. It was very clean, and although the furnishings weren’t particularly stylish according to the leading women’s magazines of the day, they were comfortable and homey.

“I need to get back to the kitchen. My sister is keeping an eye on things, but dinner is almost ready. Look around all you wish.”

I did. I meandered through all of the public rooms, leaving the ones with closed doors unexplored. Nearly every room in the house had a large carpet on the floor. I tried to imagine Mary Grace, large with child, trying to physically beat the dust out of each one of them, and just the thought of it made me frown. Before the evening was done, I was going to mention to Wills my plan to buy her a Hoover for Christmas.

 

* * *

 

“There you are! I was afraid that you’d gotten yourself hopelessly lost in this place.” Wills intercepted me in the downstairs hallway as I was making my way back to the main parlor.

“I was just looking around a bit. Your home is very beautiful.”

He nodded in agreement. “Grace works herself to death trying to keep it as such, even though I tell her all the time it’s not necessary. Dinner is still a while off. Why don’t we withdraw to my study and escape the noise.”

I murmured a soft affirmative and followed him down the hall and through two thick paneled wooden doors. He closed them firmly behind us and gestured toward the red leather chairs grouped near the fireplace. We seated ourselves comfortably by the warm fire. I refused his offer of brandy or tobacco. I studied him while he meticulously snipped the cap off the end of a cigar and carefully lit it. Since my involvement with Daniel, I now noticed things about men that had escaped my attention before. The man sitting beside me was as slender as I was, but much taller, fashionably dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and dark tie, but without the outer jacket. His clothes fit his body nicely. His short black hair was oiled and smooth, and parted in the middle. Very tidy. Not at all unruly like my own stubborn lock of hair which refused to stay where it belonged no matter the amount of grease I applied to it.

I had to admit to myself as I watched him puff at the cigar, that Wills was a very handsome man, with regular features and a strong chiseled jaw. Not that I was attracted to him, because I wasn’t. Only Daniel had that affect on me. But it went without saying that Mary Grace had chosen well for herself, as long as Wills’ heart matched his countenance.

“I’m glad to finally meet you, Morgan. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” He puffed at the cigar, which had a surprisingly pleasant scent, and raised his dark eyes to mine. “You seem to have a very close relationship with my wife.”

A silent alarm went off inside my head. Will’s tone was polite, but I detected an underlying current of something unpleasant. “Yes. She’s a very good friend,” I acknowledged cautiously.

“She handles your personal affairs and has access to your bank accounts. Do you not consider that to be a bit… _inappropriate_ …considering that she already has a husband to care for?”

His demeanor hadn’t changed in the slightest. His legs were crossed elegantly at the knees and he continued to puff lazily on the cigar. It was impossible for me to determine what he was thinking just by looking at his face. Was I in danger of getting tossed out on my ear, or worse, getting in a physical altercation with this man? Either one would ruin Alice’s special day, so I had to tread with caution from this point on.

“Because of my medical condition, I can’t move about during the day, especially when the sun is out. Mary Grace graciously agreed to help me after the woman who was previously taking care of my affairs suddenly left town. There is nothing inappropriate going on, I can assure you of that,” I insisted firmly, while steadily holding his gaze.

“She speaks quite fondly of you, very often. I’m simply wondering if perhaps I should be watching my back,” he said with one eyebrow raised in speculation.

“Your back is quite safe. I have a very lovely woman in my life at the moment. Her name is Lissa, and she’s the type of woman who keeps a man’s attention for a very long time, if you get my meaning.” I smiled crookedly. “Trust me, Lissa makes sure that I have no time or inclination to be inappropriate with anyone else, not if I wish to live to see my next birthday.”

He stared at me in silent contemplation for a few moments, and then snickered knowingly. “A bit of a handful, is she?”

“A bit, yes,” I admitted. “But I love her very much. Mary Grace is a dear, dear friend. Lissa, however, is my passion.”

He raised both eyebrows and smiled. “Well said, my friend, very well said. I hope I haven’t offended you, but you must understand that Grace is _my_ passion, and any man of worth protects those who are precious to him, even with his life, if that becomes necessary.”

With that one statement, I knew without a doubt that Mary Grace had most definitely chosen well. I nodded without smiling. “On that point, you and I are in complete agreement.” We made eye contact, a silent recognition that we were both cut from the same cloth, although he was human and I was not. We both fiercely protected the ones we loved, and neither one of us could fault the other for it.

He extended his hand. “It’s my great pleasure to meet you and welcome to my home.”

I smiled, shook his hand and returned the sentiment, as a loud shout proclaiming dinner to be ready, echoed though the house. 

 

* * *

 

“Wills and I have decided to start a tradition. Before eating our Thanksgiving dinner, each of us must say aloud what we’re thankful for,” Mary Grace announced.

We started with her and worked our way around the huge dining room table. The usual thank yous were given: for family, food, and shelter from the elements; for health and success in their work; for the blessing of children, those who were here, and also those who were yet to be born (which caused Alice to grin across the table at Mary Grace).

When it was my turn, all eyes fell on me, as if whatever I had to say was as important as a presidential proclamation. I felt not a little uncomfortable at being the center of attention, and knew that I had to choose my words carefully. “I’m thankful that I have people in my life who love me.”  _Even though I may not deserve their love_. Alice. Mary Grace. Rhodes. Daniel, although I was no longer sure if I could include him since our parting had been a bitter one. And finally Asha, whose love I still felt eight-hundred years after her death.

Soft appreciative sighs went around the table and then we moved on to Alice. She wriggled in her seat at suddenly being the center of attention. I sympathized with her immensely. I waited nervously for whatever was going to come out of her mouth, since once never knew with children.

“I’m thankful there aren’t any peas,” she announced with a giggle. Everyone around the table laughed with her, most nodding their agreement.

“Anything else, honey?” Mary Grace asked, chuckling.

“I’m thankful for the same thing Morgan is: for people who love me. Mary Grace, Wills, Morgan, the babies in your stomach...” She smiled at Mary Grace and then continued, “Nurse Ruby, and my other family, too: my Mommy, my Daddy, my sissy Cynthia and Puppy. I know they still love me, even if I’m not with them anymore.”

Everyone grew silent around the table. There was sniff here and a quick swipe at a tear somewhere else. No one knew quite what to say. Fortunately, Wills jumped in and saved the day. My respect for him at that very moment increased tenfold. 

“What a very lucky little girl you are! I have but _one_ family who loves me, and half the time they want to hang me up on a nail and beat the mischief out of me with a broom!” He grinned and winked at her. The tension around the table disappeared with Alice’s giggles.

Wills and I locked eyes across the table for a few moments. I nodded my silent thanks to him for getting Alice to laugh. Her tears were so close to the surface that it could have quite easily gone the other way. He acknowledged me with his own silent nod. Alice had no idea the amount of love that existed in this room for her alone.

Wills said a blessing over the food and then dinner was dispatched with much haste, thankfully, which helped disguise the fact that I had eaten rather sparingly. But nothing escaped Mary Grace’s notice in her own house. In answer to her question about my lack of appetite, I professed a need to save room for birthday cake.

After the table was cleared, Mary Grace set Alice’s huge birthday cake in the center of the table. Six white candles formed a small circle in the middle. She made a silent wish, stood up in her chair, braced herself with her hands on the table and blew out her candles to the sound of “Happy Birthday to You” being sung by everyone in the room.

First the eating of the cake, and then the parade of gifts began. The little girls that had been invited to the party circled around Alice and helped her tear off the wrappings. Mary Grace and I watched in amusement as she pretended to be surprised by her gifts. But even though she knew in advance everything that she was going to get, she still enjoyed opening them. She played with the toys and passed them around to the little girls beside her so they could play with them, too. She held up the clothes to her body and swirled around in a circle, grinning at the compliments she received. The candy was quickly snatched from her little hand by Mary Grace before it could make its way to her mouth and turn into a stomach ache.

When everything had finally been opened Alice remembered her manners (and no doubt, my many reminders in the past days) and thanked everyone for their gifts. At that very moment, Mary Grace and I exchanged knowing looks. Alice had no idea she had another present. I had just officially become the secret weapon against our own little dark-haired, green-eyed crystal ball.

“Alice, where are you going?” I asked when she leapt from her seat and started to leave the room with her friends. “You have another gift to open.” Mary Grace slid quietly from the room as Alice turned around to face me.

“No I don’t,” she said with the certainty of one who had a miniature Delphi Oracle nestled inside her head.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I _don’t,_ ” she argued with a smug little grin.

“Yes, you _do_ ,” I argued back with my own smug grin.

She knew she couldn’t say anything about her gift in front of the whole room, so she was left with nothing else to say. Right then Mary Grace brought in the dollhouse, covered with a white sheet, and placed it on the dining table. 

“Happy Birthday, Alice. From me and Lissa,” I said quietly.

Mary Grace slid the sheet off and let it fall to the floor. Alice’s mouth dropped open in complete surprise, and it was a joy to watch. Her green eyes were wide pools of disbelief as they settled on the pink dollhouse and flicked back to me. Then suddenly, a single tear slid down her cheek.

“Why are you crying?” Alarmed, I pulled a chair over to the table and sat down beside her. Mary Grace was hovering in the background, and the rest of the room fell silent. “Don’t you like it?”

The tears started to flow even more profusely, and just when I thought that this gift had been a really bad idea, she flashed me a brilliant grin, wrapped her little arms around my neck and squeezed with every bit of strength she had. “I love it! I love it!” she cried in my ear through the tears. She pulled back and wiped at her face. “And you surprised me, too!”

I smiled, relieved that her tears were tears of happiness. “Yes, I did.”

“You’re a big meanie,” she growled with a playful frown creasing her forehead.

“Yes, I am.” I chuckled.

“I love you.” Another hard squeezie hug. “And I like Lissa now, too.”

Every female in the room crowded around the dollhouse, oohing and aahing over the tiny pieces that went with it, while Wills and I fell back from the commotion to a corner of the room.

“You’ve made Alice a very happy little girl. Well done,” he said softly. “She’s such a precious child, isn’t she? I wish there were some way Grace and I could adopt her as our own.”

“I wish that as well.” I sighed. “But as long as her parents are living, it’s out of our hands.”

He shook his head in puzzlement. “How could they just desert her like that? I don’t understand it.”

There was no answer to his question, so I kept silent. I wasn’t sure how much Mary Grace had told him about Alice and her gift. I decided that a change of subject was in order. “Might I ask a favor of you?” I was venturing into dangerous territory now, considering our earlier conversation.

“That all depends on what it is."

“Since Mary Grace refuses to take any compensation for helping me with my affairs, might I buy her a gift for Christmas as a way of thanks?”

“I see no problem with that. What kind of gift did you have in mind?”

“A Hoover.” They were quite expensive and I hoped he wouldn’t be offended by my offer.

“A Hoover?! One of those rug-sucking contraptions? Do those things even work?” he asked skeptically.

“I have no idea,” I answered with a soft laugh. “All I know is that Lissa bought one the other day, and I don’t think I’m going to need a Christmas tree this year. We’re just going to hang bulbs on the thing and stare at it in awe.”

Wills laughed and slapped me on the back. “You’re quite an amusing fellow, Morgan. I can see why Grace enjoys your company.”

“But I must warn you. Once that monstrosity enters this house you’ll definitely need to watch your back. I sometimes wonder if that metal contraption has replaced me in Lissa’s affections.”

“Well, thanks for the warning.” He chuckled. “And I’m sure Grace will love it. I feel quite badly now about my earlier behavior. I think you’re a decent fellow, and Alice is very blessed to have you watching out for her.”

While the girls played in the dining room floor with the dollhouse, Mary Grace, her sister, and Wills and I played Whist at the table. One-by-one the girls’ parents came to pick them up until only Alice was left.

“I think it’s time to take her back,” Mary Grace said quietly. “Look.” She nodded toward the floor, and there lay little Alice, stretched out on the rug fast asleep. “Do you think she had a good time?” 

“I’m sure of it,” I answered. “Thank you for doing this for her. She’ll never forget it.” 

 


	36. The Truth

**AUTHOR's NOTE:**   There are references in this chapter to events that happened in my outtake "The Birth of a Friend". If you haven't read it, you may be a little confused. Now might be a good time to hop on over and read it! (It's complete in19 chapters.)   **[THE BIRTH OF A FRIEND: A MICHAEL& DANIEL STORY](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8605543)**

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

The days following Alice’s birthday party and into early December were happy ones for all of us. She played many hours with her new toys, completely ignoring her old ones. One evening, with Mary Grace’s assistance, she even staged a pretend fashion show for us, just like the ones held in Paris by designer Charles Frederick Worth. Nurse Ruby, Mary Grace and I sat in stiff wooden chairs, pretending to be comfortable, and gave our appropriate murmurs of praise and awe as she pranced through the middle of the room showing off her finery—even her new nightgowns—with a surprising amount of poise and grace for one so young.

“Charles Frederick would simply die if he saw you, Alice dahling,” Mary Grace said in her best snooty Parisian voice. “Such beauty, such grace, such style.” She sniffed haughtily and laughed at her own silliness.

Alice giggled and asked who Charles Frederick was, which led to a long discussion of haute couture fashion, a subject I knew little, if nothing, about. Nurse Ruby excused herself to return to her duties while I sat and listened to the conversation between them. Alice was completely entranced by Mary Grace’s stories of Paris and the fashion shows held there every season. Her green eyes were fixed on Mary Grace’s face and followed every word. I only wished they’d light up with as much excitement when she studied her mathematics.

Midweek in the first week of December, our first small bit of unhappiness crept in. I arrived at work on a stormy Wednesday evening to find Mary Grace hovering worriedly over our precious little Alice, who was crying profusely. Panic overtook me before I could clamp down on it, but I forced myself to stop and assess the situation. It didn’t take long for me to come to the conclusion that this wasn’t a major crisis. Alice was obviously upset, but Mary Grace seemed to be more frustrated than anything else.

I crossed the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “What’s wrong?”

“She won’t tell me a thing,” Mary Grace said. Yes, she was definitely frustrated. Alice’s stubbornness could sometimes try the patience of a dead man.

“Cynthia is gone.”

I glanced at Mary Grace, whose eyebrows had shot up in astonishment. “Did you have a vision about your family?” I asked, prodding gently at what was still a very raw wound in Alice’s heart.

She shook her head and simply pointed across the room. Both of us followed the direction of her finger and our eyes landed on the doll house. Alice then explained that the baby, which she’d named after her sister Cynthia, was missing. After a little more questioning, it became apparent that Alice had named all of the dolls that had come with the house after her real family, and now the baby, who had come with a tiny wooden cradle, was gone. Mary Grace and I exchanged worried looks. This situation had the possibility of becoming more serious than it had at first appeared. I’d never expected her to think of those miniature wooden dolls as her real family.

As Mary Grace reassured her in the soft, comforting tones that only a mother possessed, that the doll would most certainly be found, I methodically searched the room. No crevice was too small to look into, no object too large to be moved and peered behind. As I stood up, having just searched underneath her cabinet, I saw the doll sitting in the windowsill, partially hidden by the thin curtains hanging at the sides.

“There it is!” I exclaimed.

Alice literally squealed with happiness when I placed the baby into her outstretched palm. Her fingers closed over it tightly. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed with every bit of strength she had. Mary Grace let out a deep sigh of relief and smiled gratefully.

“How did it get up _there?_ ” Alice asked after we’d finally gotten her settled back onto her bed.

Mary Grace and I both spoke at the same time.

“The janitor,” she said.

“A brownie,” I said.

Mary Grace looked at me strangely and then proceeded to explain to Alice that the doll had probably fallen out of the dollhouse unnoticed, and that the janitor had most likely picked it up while cleaning and set it in the windowsill.

“It was most definitely a brownie,” I insisted politely after she’d finished her mundane, but certainly very plausible, explanation. It just wasn’t the truth. Alice’s eyes were dancing with curiosity.

“What’s a brownie?” she asked, the little doll in her palm temporarily forgotten.

“A brownie is a tiny little fairy called a hob, and it’s about this tall.” I held my thumb and fingers three inches apart in illustration. “They live in people’s houses and help out with the household tasks. But occasionally, their curiosity gets the better of them and they take things that interest them. They always put them back, but it’s never in the same place it was before.”

Mary Grace was sporting a small smile along with a disbelieving frown. Alice, on the other hand, was completely enthralled and begged to know more.

“What do they look like?”

I shrugged. “They all dress differently because they make their clothes from whatever scraps of fabric they can find. But as to their appearance, their legs and arms are very thin like twigs, their bellies very big and they wear tiny pointed hats and shoes. There are brownies everywhere in this hospital, but you never see them. They only come out at night to work.”

Both of them were now looking at me like I’d sprouted another set of arms and legs. Neither one of them believed me.

“How did a… _brownie_ …get from the floor to that high window?” Mary Grace asked, the challenge in her voice unmistakable.

I grinned. “They have little wings that flutter like a hummingbird, but they can’t fly very far at a time—just in short bursts.”

Mary Grace frowned, shaking her head in disbelief. “How do you know there are… _brownies_ …in the hospital?”

“I’ve seen them, and you have too.” At her skeptical look, I continued. “Haven’t you seen something out of the corner of your eye before and thought it a mouse? When you look, it’s gone? That’s a brownie. They’re very quick.”

Then Alice’s contagious little giggle burst out of her. “You’re just telling another silly story, Morgan.”

“Brownies don’t exist.” Mary Grace agreed with Alice and they both laughed at me.

I sighed. Daniel hadn’t believed me either until he’d become a vampire and had actually seen one, along with an imp and a pixie. To his disappointment, he hadn’t yet gotten to see one of the Guardian Fae, and I hoped he never did.

“Mary Grace, how many earbobs in your jewelry box are missing a mate? How many socks? How many buttons have you laid aside for your mending, only to find them gone later?” I gave her a few moments to consider my question. “Brownies.”

“I told you Morgan tells the best stories,” Alice insisted, nodding knowingly. “He tells them to me all the time. You should hear them.”

Mary Grace eyed me curiously. I thought she was on the verge of believing me, but in the end, she just couldn’t make that one last leap of faith that was needed.

“You’re a very interesting man,” she said softly.

 

* * *

 

Thursday evening at dinner time, Alice proved once again that she had a stubborn streak in her little body a mile wide and two miles long. “The threes are dumb and I’m _not_ saying them!” she announced loudly.

Her bottom lip was pushed out in a stubborn pout. I’d forced her to stop playing with her dollhouse long enough to resume her lessons and now I was paying the price. She was mad at me and was taking her anger out on the poor, innocent threes that had done absolutely nothing except exist.

“Alice!” Mary Grace scolded her gently while I stood by and observed. I’d had no luck in budging her out of her stubbornness and now hoped that Mary Grace would meet with some success on my behalf. “Morgan is just trying to teach you what you need to know, honey. ‘An empty head is a useless head. You might as well walk around with a cabbage on your shoulders.’ That’s what my mother always used to tell me when I wouldn’t study my lessons.”

Alice snickered mischievously; I smiled fondly. Mary Grace always seemed to know the right thing to say to chase away Alice’s bad humor.

“You’re never grumpy with me, like Morgan.” She glared at me around Mary Grace’s body, but there wasn’t a bit of anger in her eyes. She was teasing me, which I enjoyed despite my earlier annoyance with her.

Mary Grace chuckled softly. “That’s because I have a big soft spot in my heart just for you.”

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu swept over me. A distant memory suddenly awakened of Daniel and I standing in a clearing in France, with Jane’s evil crimson eyes boring into mine and her spiteful voice issuing a long-forgotten threat:  


_“When we return, if he is still human, you’ll receive no mercy. Aro had a soft spot for your wife and let her transgressions go on much too long. That won’t happen again.”_  
  


Alice pulled her little eyebrows together in a frown, like she always did when presented with a puzzle. “What’s that mean? A soft spot?”

I listened to Mary Grace’s answer with a strange detachment. Half of me was still back in France, once again pondering the meaning of Jane’s mysterious pronouncement.

“It means that I have a really big smooshy, gooey place right here—“ She pointed to her heart and then to Alice’s. “—for everyone I love to live in. It’s warm and soft and comfortable there, like a big pile of feathers.”

Alice giggled at her description. I didn’t. After two hundred and sixty years of living with the mystery of Jane’s words, I suddenly realized that an explanation might possibly be near at hand. Had Aro loved my wife? I had no idea, but I knew someone who would know the truth: Rhodes.

 

* * *

 

“What’s wrong, Michael?”

Despite the gloominess of the weather, I’d refused to budge from the house and venture outside. Rhodes had finally given up and settled onto the bed with me. The book we’d attempted to read was now lying face down beside us and forgotten. I was too distracted by my thoughts to concentrate on it.

“I need to ask you something, about Asha.”

“All right,” she said. After I’d hesitated much too long, she prodded me gently. “What is it?”

I steeled myself for her answer, because I was so very afraid that I already knew it. “Was Aro in love with her?”

Startled, she sat up, turning to face me. “Where did you get an idea like that?”

In answer, I told her about mine and Daniel’s confrontation with Jane in France and quoted word-for-word to her what Jane had said. “A soft spot. That meant that Aro loved my wife, didn’t he?”

She sighed and nodded. The truth hit me hard, even though I’d been expecting it. That despicable, evil creature had loved my beautiful Asha and just the idea of it sickened and enraged me at the same time. 

“Tell me,” I ordered. The sadness I saw in Rhodes’ eyes made me wish I could just forget all about it and go on living in ignorance like I had for centuries, but I couldn’t take the coward’s way out now. I had to know.

“Remember when Asha told you the story of her arranged marriage?”

I nodded, remembering back to the night in our small cottage when the three of us had sat by the fire and she’d told me of her past. Asha had been born into a very wealthy Egyptian family and, of course, her father had arranged a marriage for his youngest and most beautiful daughter with a much older man. Asha had known him, and knew him to be kind, but she hadn’t loved him. Instead, her heart had already been given to a young man her own age. They’d known each other since childhood and had eventually realized that they were meant to be together. But of course, Asha had been obedient, like all Egyptian daughters. She’d resigned herself to marrying someone she didn’t love.

But, unbeknownst to her, she’d unwittingly crossed paths with a vampire. He’d watched her for months until one evening he’d approached her as she’d lingered after sunset in the courtyard of their estate. He’d spoken kindly to her, commiserating with her and the unpleasant circumstances of her impending marriage. Through a series of nightly conversations, he’d convinced her to leave her family. He’d promised to arrange a tryst with her young lover so that they could escape Egypt and live happily together elsewhere. But when I’d pushed and prodded for details about the vampire, Asha had refused to tell me any more about him.

Suddenly, illumination dawned bright as the morning sun. A piece of the puzzle that I hadn’t even known was missing finally slid into place. Asha had been purposely vague about the details of her past for a reason. “The vampire who befriended her was Aro.” 

“Yes,” Rhodes confirmed my conclusion.

“But Asha described him as kind and gentle—a very patient man who seemed genuinely concerned for her happiness. She trusted him.”

Rhodes nodded. “She did, at first. Then he promised to arrange a meeting between her and the young man, and the boy never arrived. Asha assumed, with some assistance from Aro, that she’d been abandoned by her young lover.”

Anger burned inside my heart as I realized what had happened. “He killed the boy.”

“Yes,” she answered softly. “Asha didn’t know that at first. She believed everything he told her. She was so innocent and trusting, and Aro was very deceitful and manipulative then, just like he is now. He convinced her that she couldn’t go back to her family, and in her heart she knew he spoke the truth. She’d be disgraced and the marriage would be called off. She’d be a constant source of shame to her father, so she left Egypt with him.”

Anger suddenly turned to rage as the very last piece of the puzzle fit into its rightful place. The finished picture roared to life in my head and called forth all the hatred I carried around inside of me for Aro. “He changed her. Aro was the vampire who changed Asha!”

Rhodes nodded. “Against her will.”

Fury overtook my body, mind and spirit. I leapt from the bed and struck out at the first thing in my path. A full-length mirror standing on two spindly wooden legs flew through the air and crashed into pieces against the far wall. I ripped the bedroom door from its hinges and sent it crashing onto the floor. Inhuman snarls poured out of me, the sound of the demon giving free reign to his fury. Only the soft pleading of Rhodes' voice and the comforting feel of her arms around me kept me from completely destroying the room.

“I despise the man!” I screamed, my body shaking with the rage that still had a home in my heart. Every empty space inside of me was filled with it, consumed with it, like fire spreading though a dry forest. “I’ll kill the bastard! _I’ll kill him!!”_

The thought of Asha being changed against her will tore at my heart. She would have just as well have been raped by the man, as her humanity had been ripped from her by force. Rhodes held onto me tightly until I finally was able to quell the rage inside of me. The fire had been put out, but the embers of hatred I felt for Aro would continue to smolder as long as I walked the earth.

Rhodes pulled me back to the bed and held me. “As soon as she’d gained enough control to leave him, she did. When she finally discovered the truth, she ran from him as swift as the wind and never looked back. But Aro was, and still is, a patient and persistent man. He never gave up in his quest to win her love. He continued to pursue her, even though he was married. Asha refused to speak with him, and the few times he forced the issue, she turned her back to him and ignored him like he wasn’t in the room. You have to know that she despised him.”

“Why did he murder her, if he supposedly loved her?”

Rhodes shrugged and picked at the cloth of my shirt. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know the true answer to that question, but I think I may know.”

“Tell me.”

She sighed deeply and lifted her sad gaze to mine. “Asha was always searching for her young man. We never spoke of it, but it was true, nonetheless. I think all of the human men she got involved with must have resembled her young lover in one way or another, but none of them ever measured up to her memory, I suppose. She either killed them or left them. Sometimes they left _her_ , but she never changed any of them.

“All that time, Aro was watching her with his tracker. I think he tolerated the men filtering in and out of her life because he knew she didn’t really love them. As long as she never fell in love, he still harbored some hope that she’d eventually come to him.”

I made the connection before Rhodes could continue. “Then she met me,” I said quietly. The guilt grew heavier with the realization that I’d been the catalyst for the events leading up to her death.

“Yes,” Rhodes acknowledged. “She met you. I remember her telling me that you were so perfect, so beautiful, and that was just from seeing you from afar. Once she caught your scent on the wind it was settled. She was deeply in love with you before she ever approached you in that clearing. You probably didn’t physically look anything like her young man, but there was still something about you that drew her to you, and you being her singer just made it that much more inevitable. I think that once Aro realized she was in love with you, her fate was sealed. Once you were married and she changed you, he saw the truth and took action.”

I fought down the rage that had begun to churn inside of me. “If he couldn’t have her, no one would,” I concluded.

Rhodes nodded and pulled me closer. “He’s an evil man. He killed his own sister when he discovered that Marcus was going to leave Volterra with her. People are pawns to him, even his own family.”

I held tight to her as the rage drained out of me and left a vast emptiness in its wake. “Why didn’t he kill me, too?” I moaned softly into her hair, not expecting an answer.

“Because you fascinate him.” She pulled away and cupped my face in her hands. “Despite the fact that you stole the woman he loved right out from under his nose, I think he was very curious about you. What did you possess that he didn’t? What was it about you that Asha loved so deeply?  Why do you think I begged you not to go see him after her death? Aside from his curiosity about Asha’s love for you, I knew that once he discovered the power of your gift, he’d want you for his own.”

“I should have listened to you.”

In the quiet that followed, I thought about my life and all that had happened to me since Asha’s death. The realization that I was just a small piece on Aro’s grand chessboard left me feeling helpless, which ultimately fueled my anger even more. “It’s like a big chess game to him,” I said softly. Puzzled, Rhodes asked me to explain. “I’m the Queen, the ultimate prize. All the pawns that are around me, protecting me, are the people I’ve loved and still love. He’s eliminating them one-by-one until in the end I’ll be left alone and vulnerable. That’s when he’ll strike.”

“Daniel and I are still here,” she insisted. “You’re not alone and you never will be. Neither one of us would stand by and let Aro harm you.”

I stared at her without comment. There was no use debating the point. I knew the truth.

 

* * *

 

_**December 7, 1906** _

 

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. I arrived at work Friday evening to find everything changed. Mary Grace was sitting on Alice’s bed sobbing, and the precious child who was the center of my existence was gone.

“Where is she?” I asked in a panic.

Mary Grace was crying so hard that she couldn’t answer.

 _“Where is she!!?”_  

I waited impatiently as Mary Grace struggled to gain control of her tears. Thankfully, Nurse Ruby came into the room to explain. “She’s been moved to Ward Four.” 

She patted my shoulder in sympathy, but I moved away from underneath her hand. Ward Four was the isolation ward used for intense medical testing of patients not responding to conventional treatments. Ward Four was likened to Hell on earth by the nurses in the rest of the hospital.

“Why? _Why??!”_

“She’s not exhibiting any symptoms. The doctors want to monitor her closely and run some tests. I’ve heard from a nurse, who shall remain unnamed, that if she doesn’t show symptoms of the condition that she was admitted for very soon, they’re going to release her back to her family. The powers-that-be say she’s taking up valuable space if she isn’t truly ill. I think, from what the nurse told me, that they believe they’ve been duped into taking in a child that the family just didn’t want or didn’t have the money to care for.” Nurse Ruby wiped at her eyes with her apron. “I just can’t abide the thought of that dear little child in that place.” She shook her head and left the room.

Mary Grace finally met my eyes and the misery I saw in them paled in comparison to what was in my heart.

“You and I both know that she won’t tell the doctors a single thing about her visions. We’ve told her too many times to keep her gift a secret. She’ll do it, because she’s obedient when it counts. She trusts us and she’ll do what we told her. Oh God, Morgan! She’s going to be sent home!” Mary Grace sank down onto Alice’s bed and cried into her tiny pillow.

I left the room and ran down the long halls as quickly as possible. The raised eyebrows of nurses and their exclamations of surprise followed me the entire way. I arrived at Ward Four, but was stopped in my tracks by two heavy and locked metal doors. Ward Four was closed to the rest of the hospital. Only nurses and doctors assigned there were allowed entry past those steel sentinels. Of course, I could have easily ripped them from their hinges, but the futility of that was foremost in my mind. Causing a scene was not the solution. That would only get me fired and Alice would be left alone.

I concentrated on the sounds behind those doors. I searched for Alice’s tiny voice until I finally found it. I focused on that sweet sound and pushed all of the other noise to the background. A doctor was talking to her, asking questions about her gift. I said a silent prayer to Daniel and Rhodes’ useless God that she would disobey me for once and answer truthfully.

Doctor: “Do you ever see… _pictures_ …in your head, of things that haven’t happened yet?”

_Tell the truth, Alice! Please, just tell the truth!_

Alice: “No.”

Her one-word stubborn answer brought my world crashing down around me. Mary Grace was right. She’d obey and never tell, and then she would be sent home. I leaned against the wall and stared helplessly at the thick doors separating me from my precious singer. Even though going home to her family would make Alice happy, I had serious misgivings about it. Her parents didn’t understand her gift and would most likely just abandon her in another insane asylum with no one there to protect her.

Doctor: “Do you ever hear voices speaking to you inside your head, telling you things that are going to happen?”

Alice: “No.”

I clamped down hard on the panic and grief that threatened to overtake me and interfere with my ability to reason a way out of this situation. I didn’t have time for such useless emotions. On my slow walk back down the hall to Alice’s room, I began to plan.

 

 


	37. Timeline for Michael Golland's life (aka Morgan Grant)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this story, I had a few readers express a desire to see a concrete timeline of the events in Michael's life leading up to this story.

**TIMELINE FOR MICHAEL GOLLAND'S LIFE (aka MORGAN GRANT)**

 

 **1085** \- Michael Golland was born on a small farm in England

 **1102** \- Michael meets the vampire Mariasha (Asha) in his 17th summer

 **1106** \- Michael is changed by Asha at age 21

 **1108** \- Asha is murdered by Aro.

 **1108 - late 1400s** \- Michael is nomadic and hunting humans without conscience

 **1478** \- Michael was involved in the Spanish Inquisition

 **1480** **-1641** \- Michael is once again nomadic.

 **1641** \- Michael meets and changes Daniel (In France). They travel all over the world for a while.

 **1666** \- Michael and Daniel return to England for a visit. They meet Katherine. Michael hooks up with her; she gets pregnant. Matthew is born. Not long after that, Matthew dies. (I haven't figured out the exact time yet.)

 **1700** \- Michael and Daniel are in Romania with Vladimir and Stefan, plotting against Aro.

 **1700-1710** \- Carlisle lives with the Volturi for a decade.

 **1709** \- The Volturi take action against Michael and Daniel's coven in Romania. Daniel escapes, but Michael is captured and taken to Volterra. Rhodes and Carlisle conspire to rescue him.

 **1710** \- after a heated argument with Daniel, Michael leaves Europe entirely. He goes to the New World. (U.S.) where he begins his "penance" phase and works on controlling his thirst.

 **1711 - 1861** \- Michael is nomadic.

 **1861-1865** \- Michael gets involved in the U.S. Civil War. It is during this time that he first meets James.

 **1904** \- Michael settles in Biloxi, Mississippi and changes his name to Morgan Grant. He gets a job at the insane asylum.

 **1906** \- Alice enters Biloxi State Mental Hospital.

(During Michael's nomadic phases, I have no idea what he was doing. LOL So many possibilities...)


	38. Helplessness and Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sad one. Sorry about that, but it would be unrealistic in the setting of this story to not have had something like this happen. The “treatment” mentioned in this chapter didn’t come from my imagination. While researching insane asylums for this story, I came across a very old book that was written by a woman who’d been a patient in one of these asylums during this time period. She described being subjected to this treatment in an attempt to cure her mental illness. It was purely MY idea, however, to have this treatment occur in cycles over a period of days.

**~ MORGAN ~**

Mary Grace and I had no choice but to return to our duties. We agreed to meet during dinner in Alice’s room, but without her there, it seemed pointless.

I made the rounds in my ward, restocking the patients’ supplies, offering a kind word where needed, assisting a nurse when asked—my normal evening responsibilities. But during it all, my mind worked feverishly on a solution to Alice’s dilemma. So many scenarios ran though my head: I could rip off the doors, race into the ward, find Alice, bash out a window and escape into the night before anyone knew what had happened. I'd stop at my house long enough to collect Rhodes and then leave the area. We could settle somewhere else, pose as her parents and raise her together.

It sounded good in theory, but there were too many holes. What if someone tried to stop me and people got injured, maybe even Alice? How would Rhodes react to finding me on my own doorstep with a six-year-old in tow?  She’d stopped in Biloxi for a _visit_ , not to become an instant mother. Then there was Mary Grace. I couldn’t just leave with Alice and not tell her. It would devastate both her _and_ Wills. They’d grown so attached to her. Then there was the Volturi to consider. I was constantly being tracked, so it went without saying that Aro knew I was living in Biloxi. If I suddenly disappeared, he’d start searching. The last thing I’d need would be for him to find me living with a human child and passing her off as my own. He’d never allow it. Plus, that would bring Alice to his attention, which was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. And I could never forget about James, who was also tracking my movements and just waiting for the perfect opportunity to get his revenge for what had happened between us. All I needed was for him to discover that I had deep feelings for Alice. He’d kill her without conscience, just to get back at me.

Another possible solution would be to intervene and tell the doctors that I’d actually witnessed one of her visions, a move which would ensure that she’d stay, but which would also initiate the treatments. I’d witnessed firsthand modern medicine’s “cures” for insanity, and they bore an uncanny resemblance to the torture devices and methods of the Spanish Inquisition. Our precious Alice might not survive them.

The only other choice left would be to wait until they released her to her parents and then snatch her away from them before they could commit her again. In theory, it sounded like a good plan, and certainly the one most likely to be successful, but I couldn’t discount the emotional damage it would inflict upon Alice. How could I, in good conscience, rip her from her family whom she loved dearly? There was no possibility of my giving her a normal life, not when I had two very dangerous vampires breathing down my neck and tracking me everywhere I went.

The more I thought about it, the more hopeless the situation seemed. Helplessness was a most despicable feeling.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

_I hate this room._ It was ugly and there was nothing interesting to look at. It was dark, too. The shutter on the window was closed so no light could come in during the day. I hated it here. 

The doctors kept asking me questions about my visions, but I wasn’t going to answer them. Mary Grace and Morgan had told me not to.

The bed was hard. It was scratchy and it didn’t smell very nice. I wanted my other bed. I missed my soft blanket that Morgan had bought for me, and my pretty nightgowns. I wanted my Teddy Bear and my doll house and my crayons. I wanted the doctors to leave me alone, and quit poking at me with scary things. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.

The door swung open. Two doctors and a nurse came into the room. I knew one of the doctors, but couldn’t remember his name. I didn’t know the nurse or the other doctor. The nurse was carrying a book and a pencil. I closed my eyes really fast and pretended to be asleep. I wished they would just go away, but they started talking. I kept my eyes closed and listened.

“No symptoms?” one of the doctors asked.

“None so far,” the other doctor answered, the one I knew. “She continues to deny having visions. I suspect she’s deliberately being deceptive.”

I didn’t know what he meant, and I didn’t like the way he said it either. He sounded mean.

“Apparently, Mrs. Filkins has expressed some concerns about the orderly in her ward: a Mr. Morgan Grant,” the nurse said.

“What concerns?” the strange doctor asked.

“She insists that he’s interfering in Alice’s treatment,” the nurse said. “She claims to have overheard him telling Alice not to tell her doctor about her visions. Perhaps _there_ is the source of your deception.”

“Really?” said the doctor I knew. “Well, perhaps we should have a word with him.”

“Why bother?” the strange doctor said, chuckling. “Orderlies are easy to replace. If we suspect he’s interfering, let’s just get rid of him. ”

They quit talking for a long time. I wanted to open my eyes and see what they were doing, but I had a feeling I should keep pretending to be asleep.

“Nurse, if you would please, make note of this in her file,” said the doctor I knew. “After careful consideration, we recommend that Alice be placed back into her regular room for observation. We also ask that the orderly, Mr. Morgan Grant, be fired for suspicion of interfering with her treatment, or at the very least, not be allowed to see or talk to Alice at all in the future. And finally, after a period of observation without any outside influence, if she doesn’t show any symptoms of her illness she should be returned to her family.”

They were going to keep me from seeing Morgan?! _NO!!_

“Write that up and send a formal letter to the hospital administrator,” he said. “Maybe we’ll see some progress in this case, finally.”

I couldn’t let them get rid of Morgan! He had to stay and I knew exactly what to do. I opened my eyes and looked up at the three of them.

“Alice, you’re awake,” said the doctor I knew. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He smiled down at me, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like any of them, and I wasn’t going to let them send Morgan away because of me. “It isn’t Morgan’s fault,” I said, looking up at him. “I have visions all the time, I just didn’t tell you.”

The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Are you sure Mr. Grant didn’t tell you to keep them a secret?”

“No, he didn’t. It was me. Grown-ups don’t like it when I talk about them. They get scared, so I don’t tell anybody.”

The doctor smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “I’m not scared. You can tell me anything you want to tell me about your visions.”

I stared at his face and thought really, really hard until I started to see pictures of him inside my head. “You’re in trouble,” I said. “You did something wrong. A man in this hospital is mad at you. He’s coming down the hall right now to find you and to call you into his office. You’re going to get into a fight with him.”

Their mouths dropped open and they all stared at me with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?”

“You’re in big trouble,” I repeated.

At that moment, the door to my room swung open again. A man in a suit stood in the doorway and he was mad. “There you are, Dr. Soloman! Drop whatever you’re doing and come to my office immediately!”

The man pulled the door shut really hard. The doctor turned back around and stared down at me. I didn’t like the look on his face. “Nurse,” he said softly. “Erase that recommendation you just wrote in her file. This case is showing some progress after all. We’ll come up with a new treatment plan as soon as I finish dealing with this… _trouble_ …that I’m apparently in.”

 _No he wouldn’t._ The man in the suit was going to get rid of the doctor once and for all and I’d never have to see him again.

“You’re a very extraordinary little girl,” he said softly, still staring down at me and frowning. “And a very disturbed little girl, as well. But don’t worry. I’m going to help you get better.”

I didn’t like what he said or the way he said it. What did he mean by ‘disturbed’? He scared me. I didn’t need to get better; there was nothing wrong with me. That’s what Morgan said. I wasn’t sick, I was just… _me._

“I recommend we start with Ipecac,” the strange doctor said.

“Excellent suggestion, Doctor. I agree. Get it ready. I don’t expect my... _trouble_ …to amount to anything, especially once he hears about the breakthrough in this intriguing case. I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone.”

 

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

“There you are!” Mary Grace strode purposely down the hall toward me. “What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet in Alice’s room during the dinner hour.”

I didn’t answer her; I couldn’t speak. I leaned against the wall just outside the doors to Ward Four and wished for deafness.

“Morgan?” Mary Grace approached me cautiously. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I wanted desperately to tell her what was wrong. I wanted to tell her about the hellish ten minutes I’d just spent listening to Alice’s suffering. I wanted to tell her about the crying, the vomiting, and the begging I’d heard from behind those doors. I wanted to tell her just how damned close I was to tearing this hospital apart and slaughtering everyone in it. I wanted to tell her everything, but I couldn’t. They were forcing Alice to drink Ipecac. I’d seen this treatment before. It was supposed to purge the body of whatever was causing the patient’s symptoms. It was a horrendous thing to watch _and_ hear, and it ripped at my heart to know that Alice was being subjected to it.

What had happened since I’d left? Alice had sounded so adamant when denying her visions and now she was undergoing “treatment”. That only meant one thing: she’d had a vision and the doctors had been present to witness it. Why hadn’t she hid it from them??

_Morgan….make them stop. Mary Grace…please? Help me…_

I flinched at hearing Alice’s small voice pleading for help in between her bouts of crying and vomiting. I moaned and clawed at my head, as if that could somehow stop the sounds coming from behind those doors.

“Morgan! My God, what’s the matter with you?” Mary Grace moved closer and stroked one of my arms.

I managed to choke out a suitable response. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Then you need to lie down,” she suggested. “There’s nothing you can do here. Come on, walk with me and let’s get you to a bed.”

“I’m fine, really. It will pass,” I insisted, but I let her lead me back down the hall toward the other end of the hospital. She was right, there was nothing I could do for Alice short of committing an atrocity that would make all my previous ones look tame.

We ended up back in Alice’s room with me stretched out on her bed, uselessly wasting time on the pretense of “resting”. We discussed Alice and what measures could be taken to get her out of that ward. Mary Grace’s suggestions weren’t any better than mine had been.

“I wish there was some way Wills and I could adopt her,” Mary Grace said, sighing deeply.

I would have gladly settled for that solution, even though it would have meant my losing daily contact with her. At least Alice would be safe and in a happy home, not here in this hell hole being tortured like a heretic. But with her parents still living, that option was not available to us.

“Are you feeling better now?”

“I’m fine.” I rose up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“When our shift is over, we both need to go home and just rest our bodies and try to calm our fears,” she said, standing slowly and pressing a palm to her lower back. “I have faith that God will watch over Alice and keep her safe.”

I choked back the snide remark that almost slipped out of my mouth. Her invisible God hadn’t done a very good job protecting the people I’d loved so far. He was a dismal failure, in my opinion. It had been solely up to me to protect Alice and, unfortunately, I’d failed just as miserably. “I’m not going home. I’m staying here,” I said, as I slid off of the bed and stood.

Mary Grace shook her head sadly. “There’s no need for that. There’s nothing you can do. Besides, Lissa will be worried about you. You need to do what I’m going to do: go home and get some sleep. Let the ones we love give us comfort.”

“There’s nothing Lissa or Wills can do to help Alice,” I muttered helplessly.

“No,” she admitted. “But they can ease _our_ pain. That’s what they’re there for. Go home and talk to Lissa about this. Let her comfort you.” She sighed. “I need to get back to my duties. Promise me you’ll go home in the morning.”

She was right again. There was nothing I could do here. Perhaps Rhodes _could_ be of some help. “I will.”

* * *

 

_**Saturday morning, December 8, 1906** _

 

“Sometimes I wonder if that hospital is good for you.” Rhodes sighed and reached across the table to grab my hand. “Are you really happy working there?”

I threaded my fingers in with hers and squeezed. “I’m _very_ happy there. It’s just that sometimes the suffering that goes on inside those walls is difficult for me to handle, especially when it’s…” I let my voice trail off as I considered how much I should tell Rhodes about Alice. Her close call with Celine had left me very cautious.

“When it’s what?” she asked.

She waited patiently for my answer. Her dark crimson eyes were beautiful and filled with understanding. I chided myself for being overprotective. Rhodes wasn’t Celine, not even close. Rhodes was kind and caring, and had so much love to share. I couldn’t conceive of her hurting Alice, so I decided to be completely forthright with her.

“When the person who is suffering is the little girl we bought the dollhouse for. Her name is Alice. They took her out of her regular room and put her in Ward Four yesterday.”

“Ward Four. Why does that sound so ominous?” she asked, her voice filled with the same dread that was weighing down my heart.

“Because it is,” I answered. “It’s an isolation ward with restricted access. Patients undergo the most horrendous treatments there. I couldn’t get in to see her, but I stood outside the doors last night and listened to the doctors force her to drink Ipecac.” When Rhodes asked what Ipecac was, I continued. “Ipecac induces vomiting. They use it to purge the body of whatever is causing the patient’s insanity. They administer it in cycles: purge, force the patient to eat and purge again. This goes on intermittently for one, two and sometimes three days, depending on the severity of the patient’s symptoms.”

“Oh my God,” Rhodes breathed softly. “That poor little girl. What is wrong with her to warrant them giving her such a terrible treatment?”

“There’s nothing wrong with her!” I shot back, and then immediately regretted my tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but she really isn’t sick. This treatment is completely unnecessary.”

Rhodes scooted her chair around until she was sitting next to me. “Then why is she in an insane asylum?”

I hesitated and thought about how much to tell her, then once again berated myself for not trusting Rhodes. There was no logical explanation for my doubts except an irrational fear for Alice’s safety, so I confided all to her. I told her of Alice’s gift and the occasions I’d witnessed her actually having a vision. I explained that they were subjective and that the future as she saw it could be changed.

Rhodes’ mouth slowly dropped open as I explained. She was shocked, but curious, as well. “That is incredible. Imagine a six-year-old with that kind of gift. Can she control it? How accurate is she? Can she see _your_ future?”

One-by-one I answered her questions: I didn’t think that Alice had a great deal of control at this point, but I felt that that would change as she matured; she was accurate to within days and possibly even hours of the event; and no, she couldn’t see my future, which was probably because I was a vampire.

“I’m so afraid for her. Her family didn’t understand her gift and I fear that the doctors won’t either. One of them is Dr. Soloman. I find him to be a very distasteful man, the kind of man that Aro would find delightful, were he a vampire.”

Rhodes visibly shivered. “Is there nothing you can do to get her out of there?”

I shook my head. “Not a thing. I’m a vampire and I’m utterly helpless. It’s very frustrating for me.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.” She tugged at my hand and we ended up in each other’s embrace. Having her arms around me and her soft whispers of sympathy in my ear did absolutely nothing to help Alice, but it helped _me_ immensely. Mary Grace was right. There _was_ comfort to be had in the arms of the one you loved.

“There is something you can do,” I whispered against the skin of her neck. “And you’re doing it right now.”

* * *

 

_**Monday evening, December 10, 1906** _

 

I’d spent my dinner hour Saturday, and all of Sunday evening, sitting outside the doors of Ward Four. Mary Grace didn’t work on Sundays, so there had been no one to drag me away. The stray nurse who’d passed by now and then had paid me no mind either.

Most of the doctors were off on Sunday as well, but apparently Alice’s case had inspired them to make an exception. I’d listened helplessly as more of the Ipecac had been administered, followed by intense questioning about her visions. I’d heard her tearfully relate vision after vision, but all of them had been unfamiliar to me. After awhile, I’d begun to wonder if she had been making them all up. She’d not mentioned seeing the San Francisco earthquake, or Mary Grace’s possible death at Mobile, or the pregnancy, at least not that I’d heard.

“They’re bringing Alice back to her room!” Nurse Ruby announced as she bustled breathlessly past me in the hallway, startling me out of my thoughts.

I pushed my cart against the wall and followed her down the hallway to Ward Four. Halfway there we met the orderlies pushing her gurney. A small bundle was curled up underneath the blanket, and as it passed all I saw were two huge frightened green eyes peering out from under it. I scuttled alongside as they made their way to her room. Nurse Ruby hustled by me and went on ahead, probably to get her bed ready for her arrival.

“It’s Morgan. I’m here,” I said to her. “It’s all over. You’re going to be fine. I’m here.”

Her sad, hollow eyes snapped to attention the moment she heard my voice. They rose to meet mine and they stayed there all the way down the hall and into her room. Just as I’d suspected, when we arrived Nurse Ruby was readying her bed, plumping her pillow, and straightening her blankets, but there was no way she was going to lay in that lonely bed. My arms ached to hold her and comfort her. The orderlies placed her on her bed and left. Nurse Ruby was tucking her in when I intervened.

“No,” I said sternly. “Wrap her up in her favorite blanket and give her to me.”

I grabbed her Teddy Bear and retreated to the rocking chair in the corner, the one we’d bought so that she could rock Mary Grace's babies. I could see Nurse Ruby silently considering my demand, but then she smiled sadly and nodded. She carried Alice, swaddled in her blanket, across the room and deposited her onto my lap. I gathered her little body into my arms and cradled her like a baby, tucked into my elbow and nestled snug against my chest. We rocked in silence. Her eyes never left mine. One tiny hand snaked out of the folds of her blanket and made its way to my shirt. She clutched it tightly in her fingers until her knuckles turned white, and she never let go.

“Alice!” Mary Grace rushed into the room and ground to a halt. She paused long enough to compose herself and then calmly approached us. She pulled back the blanket from around Alice’s face and inspected her, as she crooned comforting words to her. “She needs water to start with. Small sips,” she said, her voice hushed in the quiet room. “Then something light to eat. I’ll go and get her something.”

We rocked in silence while Mary Grace was gone. I held her warm body tightly and breathed her scent into my lungs. The scorching burn seared down my throat and was almost as intense as the first time I’d met her. The loathsome predator in me awoke at the smell of that sweet blood. Repulsed by my own weakness, I waged a silent, ferocious battle with my thirst. Her tiny hand that clutched at my shirt in desperation, and her fearful eyes that stayed locked onto my face, helped me win that fight. No force on this Earth could have made me violate that precious child’s trust.

Mary Grace arrived with food and water. We spent the next half hour giving her sips and feeding her something that resembled porridge, one slow spoonful at a time. Mary Grace had tried to free her from her blanket, simply to avoid spilling anything on it, but Alice had whimpered in protest and clutched onto it with her other hand.

Nurse Ruby stopped by to check on Alice, and assured me that I could stay with her as long as needed. The entire nursing staff in our ward, including her, was going to carry out my duties for me. I was touched at the outpouring of love and concern, even from people who had never spoken to Alice.

After she’d drank and eaten enough to satisfy Mary Grace, we began rocking again. When Alice’s eyes fluttered shut and her grip on my shirt relaxed with sleep, Mary Grace sighed in relief and left to resume her duties. They all stopped by periodically through the night as she slept, quietly poking their head in the door to check on her, and after receiving a nod from me, went on about their work.

In the wee hours of the morning, before the sun had even begun to think of peeking over the horizon, Alice awoke and spoke to me. “Morgan.” Her voice was small and weak. Tears pooled in her eyes and I fell apart.

“I’m sorry.” My voice trembled as the guilt of my failure came to rest heavily on my shoulders. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. There was nothing I could do. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for not being there when you needed me.”

I went to brush some strands of hair from her face but never made it. She reached for my hand and curled her warm fingers around my cold ones; her grip was surprisingly strong.

“They were going to send you away. Fire you or not let me talk to you,” she whispered. “They said it was your fault I didn’t tell anyone about my visions. I told them it wasn’t you, it was me, so they wouldn’t send you away. I don’t want you to go away.” As she spoke those last words, the tears that had been trembling on the edges of her lids finally broke free and spilled down her cheeks.

The enormity of what she’d done stunned me. The sacrifice she’d made for me left me shocked and speechless. Even though she couldn’t have known the consequences of her actions, she’d still lied to protect me. What a brave little soul she was. She was more selfless, courageous, and certainly stronger than most adults I knew.

“I told them, but I made stuff up. I didn’t tell them anything important—about Mary Grace or the babies.” A small smile appeared on her face. She was proud of herself for protecting Mary Grace. I wanted to thrash her for disobeying and hug her fiercely for her loyalty both at the same time.

“You shouldn’t have lied,” I scolded her gently. “Mary Grace and I are adults and we can take care of ourselves.” Her face fell as her smile faded, so I hastily continued. “But—“ I lightly tapped her button nose with my finger and smiled down at her. “—you listened to your heart, and that’s what I’ve always told you to do. It spoke to you and you listened and did what you thought was right. I’m very proud of you for that, Alice. That was a very brave thing for a little girl to do.”

She beamed up at me; the sun couldn’t have shown any brighter than her smile. “I love you,” she said, still grinning.

“And I you,” I said softly.

Mary Grace came in shortly after that. It had been agreed—apparently behind my back and with a great amount of subterfuge—that I was to go home and rest when my shift ended. Alice would most likely sleep most of the day, she told me, as her body attempted to recover its strength. The nurses promised to check in on her every half hour. Each of my protests was met with Mary Grace’s stubborn resistance.

“I’m going home and you’re going, too,” she insisted. Her voice left no room for any more arguing. “Lissa will be worried if you don’t come home and she doesn’t know what’s going on.” She laid a hand on my arm. “You were here for Alice last night. You got her through the worst of it, and I know she’ll never forget that, but you need to go home to the woman who loves you.”

I shook my head in wonder at how astute women seemed to be when it came to matters of the heart, especially Mary Grace. How could she possibly know that after everything that had happened, that was exactly what I needed? I felt guilty for even thinking of leaving Alice alone, but I couldn’t deny my feelings. I needed Rhodes—in my arms, in my bed and in my life.

 


	39. Christmas Shopping & Memories

**~ MORGAN ~**

 

_**Wednesday evening, December 12, 1906** _

 

“Have a seat, Mr. Grant.”

Dr. Soloman gestured to the only empty chair in his office. I took a quick glance at my surroundings and wasn’t surprised at the stark emptiness of the gray-walled room. No personal items were on display, no knick knacks on his desk or brightly colored scatter rugs, nothing to invoke a feeling of warmth and welcome. It was the perfect room for the cold, clinical man sitting behind the scarred wooden desk and gazing at me intently.

“You’re very close to Alice Brandon, aren’t you?” he asked, dispensing with the formalities and getting right to the point.

An innocent question, but considering the source my senses went on instant alert. “Yes,” I answered, deciding to keep my answers short and my elaborations to a minimum.

“Why her? Out of all of the patients in this hospital, why have you taken such a special interest in her?”

The lie that I’d told Mrs. Filkins upon Alice’s arrival came to mind, so I decided to stick to that story. “She reminds me of my deceased sister. She died of the consumption when she was near Alice’s age.”

He stared back at me in silence, holding my gaze as if he could somehow find the truth in my eyes. He could stare at me for an eternity and would be none the wiser for it. I was a practiced liar and a master of deception, having done it for centuries with success.

“I see,” was his only response. He leaned back in his chair, which creaked loudly as his weight shifted, and considered me with his steely gray eyes. “Mrs. Filkins claims you are interfering with Alice’s treatment.”

He waited for my reaction. He got none.

“Are you, Mister Grant?”

“No.” One-word answer with no elaboration: the best course of action when one is lying through his teeth.

“Are you quite sure about that?”

His hard eyes continued to hold fast to mine. If the man wanted to engage me in a staring battle, he’d come out on the losing end. But ultimately, I decided that cooperation would help Alice’s cause more than a stubborn war of wills. I softened my voice, and while I still held his gaze, I let go of my rising temper and answered calmly. “What reason would I have to interfere in her treatment? It is my deepest wish to see her get better and return to her family.”

He considered my answer but offered no comment. Instead, he continued as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Mrs. Filkins states that she overheard you specifically telling Alice not to cooperate with her doctors. Are you saying that this ward’s most valued and experienced nurse is a liar?”

 _Mrs. Filkins, a valued nurse??_ I felt my temper rising once again at hearing his praise of her, but of course he would feel that way. He and Mrs. Filkins seemed to share the same philosophy regarding patient treatment. “No, I’m saying that our ‘most valued and experienced nurse’ is mistaken.” I very nearly choked on my words. “I have never said anything of the kind to Alice.”

“Have you ever witnessed one of her episodes?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“No.”

“Really? As close as you say you are to her, and she’s never shared her visions with you??” I wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. The trouble with that course of action was that he’d find himself without a head—a perfect outcome for me, but a rather inconvenient one for him. “I find that very hard to believe,” he continued. His smirk had faded; his expression had gone blank, hard and cold.

“Nevertheless, it’s true,” I insisted, clamping down on my temper. “I’ve never witnessed one, nor has she told me anything of her visions. It upsets her to talk about them, so we avoid that topic.”

He stared at me across the narrow expanse of his desk. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed snidely and leaned forward in his chair, planted his forearms on the surface of the desk and eyed me with skepticism. “For the record, I don’t believe a word of anything you just told me. I have an intuition about these things and I think you’re a lying bastard.” He leaned back in his chair again and smiled smugly. “Of course, I have no proof, no cause to have you dismissed from your duties but, just know that I’ll be watching you very closely. If you do so much as one tiny thing to interfere in Alice’s case, you will be gone from this hospital so fast that you won’t know what happened. You’ll never see Alice—‘who reminds you of your deceased sister’—again. Do we understand each other, Mister Grant?”

Dr. Soloman had just earned himself a column in my head right beside of Mrs. Filkins, and it now contained two tally marks: one for the ipecac treatment and the other for threatening my job and my relationship with Alice. I was sure that more marks would be added as time progressed.

Unable to contain my simmering temper any longer, I let a small measure of it slip out. “Yes, I think we understand each other perfectly,” I answered with an arrogant smirk.

His smile disappeared in an instant; his eyes burned hot with anger, his jaw clenched tight at my insubordination. He shot up out of his chair and glared down at me in fury. “Get out of my office!”

I nodded and silently left the room, satisfied in the knowledge that one day in the future I would have the pleasure of killing him.

 

* * *

  
_**Thursday morning, December 13, 1906** _

 

Rhodes had a very nice way of taking my mind off my worries. She’d met me at the door wearing nothing but a smile, her thick hair flowing free down her bare back. We’d gone straight to bed and had spent the early morning hours just after sunrise making love. We were now snuggled up together under the blankets, entwined in each other’s arms, listening with contentment to the thunder rumbling in the distance. A storm was approaching, but we were unconcerned.

“How is little Alice? Is she recovering?”

“Yes, she’s doing much better. Still weak, but she’s getting stronger every day.”

As the nurses had predicted, Alice had slept most of the day after I’d gone home to ‘rest’. When I’d arrived for work that evening, she’d only just awoke and had complained of being hungry. She’d eaten more than usual, and had gathered enough strength from the food to play with her toys for awhile.

I’d left off with her lessons and instead had spent my lunch hours lying beside her on the bed reading stories to her. Despite the coldness of my skin, Alice’s tiny hand had rested on my forearm the entire time. In fact, since her treatment, she’d made it a point to touch some part of my body with her hand, arm or leg anytime she’d been near me. I understood her need to have close contact with another person, having experienced the same with Daniel when we’d first met. It had been insecurity and loneliness, in Daniel’s case, and I suspected that Alice suffered the same. If being close to me helped, then I would do nothing to discourage it.

“That’s good to hear. I’m so glad.” Rhodes wiggled out of my embrace and changed the subject. “So, Christmas is just twelve days away. Have you gotten your shopping done?”

Why was she asking me a question she already knew the answer to?? “Christmas doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“What??!” She shot up, tossing the blankets here and there and everywhere, leaving me naked and exposed and at her mercy. She jabbed her hands on her naked hips, glaring down at me in disapproval. “What did you just say??”

“I said, Christmas doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Well it means something to _me_  and I live here, so by association it has to mean something to you, too, or else I’m going to be very unhappy and you don’t want that!” She scooted off the bed and began digging clothes out of the wardrobe. “Get dressed. We’re going shopping.”

I raised my eyebrows at her little fit of temper and decided it would be fun to tease her. After all, I couldn’t just let her boss me around without putting up a tiny bit of a fight. “Christmas is an absurdity. Everyone buying each other useless gifts that they don’t like, putting up a tree that’s going to eventually die and hanging tinsel all over it, singing songs about some baby born in a manger, which probably didn’t even happen…” I shook my head. “It’s all ridiculous.”

Her hand stopped in mid-air; her mouth dropped open in shock. She straightened her body, flicked her hair back from her shoulders and glared at me. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she said quietly. “Now get dressed.” She tossed a pair of underpants and trousers in my face. A shirt landed on my head, the sleeves falling across my eyes.

I sighed, frustrated that my teasing had had no effect. I hadn’t even gotten her to raise her voice at me. I scooted off the bed and began shoving my feet into my underpants. “Who am I going to buy gifts for anyway?”

She threw one of my shoes at me. I laughed and caught it before it could crack me in the forehead. “How about _me??”_ she sputtered. “Aren’t I worth a gift to you? And just think about all of the people who care about you! I’ll bet they all get _you_  a gift!”

I sighed. This was beginning to sound like work. How was I supposed to know what to buy for people? After Asha had died, I’d ignored Christmas, that is, until I’d met Daniel. He’d forced me to celebrate it with him, and had teased me mercilessly about being a grouch about it. Rhodes and Daniel were so much alike about a lot of things, so much so that it was scary. I reluctantly got dressed and steeled myself for another round of all-day shopping at Davis Brothers, her favorite store. But before we left, she planted herself at the kitchen table with a sheet of paper and pencil in hand.

“Let’s make a list.” She began writing. “Rhodes: top of the list.” She grinned and then continued scratching names on the paper. “Alice. Pregnant Nurse.”

“That would be Mary Grace, not ‘pregnant nurse’.” I chuckled. “And I’m buying her a Hoover, by the way.”

“Oh, she’ll love that!” She made a notation beside Mary Grace’s name and then continued. “Daniel—“

“Wait. Take Daniel off the list.”

She stopped writing and stared at me in confusion. “Why?”

I shrugged. “We haven’t exchanged gifts in…” I thought back to the last Christmas we’d had together, the year before the Volturi had stormed Vladimir’s castle in Romania and wreaked havoc with our lives. “…over two centuries. We aren’t in contact with each other, so it’s pointless to buy him anything.”

“All right, I can see your point about buying a gift,” she said slowly. “But, maybe something more personal. A letter, perhaps? He’d love to get a letter from you.”

 _A letter??_ My temper exploded at even the suggestion of writing that pig-headed son-of-a bitch a letter. “What the hell would I say in it?” I burst out angrily. “‘My Dearest Stubborn-Arsed Daniel, I’m sorry I walked out on you, but you were making my life a living hell! Thank you for calling me a pitiful excuse for a father, a pathetic coward, a cheat and the most useless piece-of-offal vampire you’ve ever known!! I hope you’re not upset that I plowed my fist repeatedly into your face for saying that. Oh, and Merry Fucking Christmas to you!’”

Rhodes sighed and shook her head. “My goodness. Did he really say that to you?”

“That, and a whole lot more,” I fumed. “Of course, that was after I told him I was leaving Europe and there was no way in hell I was taking his miserable ass with me!”

She sighed again and rose from the table to join me. She rubbed her palms across my shoulders in an attempt to calm my temper. “I have never in my life seen two people so angry at each other,” Rhodes said quietly. “You need to talk this out without resorting to a fist fight. A letter would be a good start. What if I helped you write it?”

I glared at her. “Forget it. That’s not going to happen.” As far as I was concerned, the subject was closed.

“All right,” she conceded sadly. “So, is there anyone else I need to add to the list?”

“No.” It was depressing to actually see written down on paper just how few people there were on this earth who cared about me.

* * *

  
I took care of the payment and delivery details for Mary Grace’s Hoover while Rhodes meandered around the store looking at the merchandise. I considered helping her, but found myself once again drawn to the electric train display in the front window. I stood over it and watched the shiny red engine travel round and round on its endless trip. A little boy of four or five, with a thick shock of dark hair, soon joined me.

“Do you know how it works?” He looked up at me, his clear blue eyes fixed hopefully on my face and waiting for an answer.

“No, I don’t, but I like watching it.”

“Me too,” he said. He smiled and turned his attention back to the train.

 

  
_“How does it work?”_

 

Matthew’s voice rose out of the depths of my memory and stunned me with its clarity. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn he was standing next to me, so real was the memory of that day so long ago…

 

_“How does what work?” I asked._

_“That.” He pointed at the fruit vendor’s rickety wooden cart, its wheels bumping over the ruts in the dirt street._

_“Well, the wheels…roll,” I offered in explanation._

_Daniel snickered at my apparently insufficient answer, which annoyed me. If he knew so damned much about it, why hadn’t he answered?_ _Matthew tore loose from my grip and chased the cart until it stopped, dropping down on all fours and peering at its underbelly._

 _“What are ye, one of those little midgets escaped from the traveling show?? Get away from my cart! Scat! Shoo! Begone with ye, ya little pesty bugger!!”_ _The vendor raised a boot, aiming a kick at Matthew’s ribs, and it was a race to see which one of us would get there first. Daniel, always the faster of us, beat me by a nose._

_“He’s just curious about your cart, that’s all. And he’s not a midget, he’s just small for his age,” Daniel hastily assured the irritable man while tugging our perpetually curious little boy out from underneath the cart. As for me, I was ready to rip the bastard’s leg off, boot and all, and then smash his cart over his head for good measure._

_“See that long shank of metal under there?” Daniel pointed underneath the cart. “That’s attached to both wheels. As the wheels roll, the piece of metal turns round and round. It’s called an axle.”_

_Matthew peered at the metal in question until his curiosity was satisfied. Then quick as a snake, and just as slippery, he got loose from Daniel and scuttled underneath the cart and came out at the other end._ _“This axle turns but the back one doesn’t,” Matthew observed as he shoved the steering mechanism from side-to-side causing the front axle and attached wheels to shift from right-to-left. “Why?”_

_“Let loose of that! If ye break it, I’ll tan your arse!” The vendor turned purple in the face and made a grab for Matthew’s hair. I scooped him up into my arms just in time. The man’s fingers caught nothing but air._

_Daniel was in his face in an instant._ _“You need to work on your manners, old man,” Daniel said, his voice quiet and menacing. “The boy was just curious and he wasn’t hurting anything.”_

_“What are those?” Matthew pointed down at the fruit piled inside the cart._

_“Apples,” I answered._

_“Can I have one?”_

_I glanced at Daniel and he glanced at me. Matthew couldn’t eat an apple and we both knew it. But our Matthew wasn’t one to give up easily when he set his mind to something. I shrugged and Daniel shrugged back. He dug a coin out of his pocket and tossed it to the old man. Matthew slid from my arms and took his time picking the perfect apple. He bit into it, chewed, swallowed, and smiled. He bit into it again, chewed, swallowed, and smiled, on and on until he’d eaten it down to the core._

_“I like apples,” Matthew said, grinning. “What is that?!”_ _He took off, fast as the wind, in pursuit of whatever had caught his attention._

_Daniel cursed underneath his breath. “I think we need a damned tether to keep up with the little bugger!”_

_We both laughed and gave chase, finally catching up to our curious son before he could get into any more mischief._

  
“I think that box underneath the train makes it go.” The little boy’s voice jerked me back to the present, back to 1906 and Davis Brothers’ store.

“I think you’re right,” I agreed. “But I don’t understand how that could be.”

“Me either,” he said with a small, frustrated sigh.

The boy’s mother appeared and dragged him off by the hand, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The memory of Matthew returned unbidden.

 

  
_“Do you feel sick?” I asked._

_“What does sick mean?” Matthew asked, puzzled._

_“Like you need to expel something out of your body.” I made a gagging, vomiting noise in demonstration._

_“No,” Matthew answered and then turned his attention back to his wooden blocks, which he was currently stacking one on top of the other._

_“Do you feel like there’s a lump in your stomach as heavy as a boulder?” Daniel asked._

_“No,” Matthew answered. His block tower teetered and then fell over. “Jesus Fucking Christ on a cross!”_

_Our mouths dropped open in shock at Matthew’s foul language. I shot Daniel a murderous glare. We both knew who was to blame for our son’s ability to swear like a sailor. Daniel cringed and mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to me across the top of Matthew’s head._ _We scolded him for his language, and he promised never to say such a thing again. We watched over him all evening, but the apple stayed in his stomach and he seemed content._

_He slept through the night without incident, but come morning we realized that there was still much that we did not know about the being that Katie and I had created. Not only did he sleep, which had been quite a shock to us both, but he could also eat human food. The apple had digested and passed out of Matthew’s body during the night._

 

  
“Look what I found for our little Alice! It’s quite scandalous, but I know she’ll love it! What little girl wouldn’t?”

Once again, I was yanked from the past and back to the tiresome present, and Christmas shopping. Rhodes was beside me, dangling the said scandalous item in the air. My mouth dropped open and I shook my head vehemently.

“No. I’m not buying her that. It’s inappropriate for a little girl,” I said, offended that Davis Brothers could offer something so unsuitable for children.

“Are you telling me that she wouldn’t like it? Seriously??” Rhodes held it in the air with both hands and admired it. A woman passed behind us and muttered something about ‘What was the world coming to?’ underneath her breath. “Personally, I think she’ll adore it, and if you won’t buy it, I will!” she announced stubbornly.

“Rhodes, it’s not proper!” I hissed at her, trying desperately to keep my voice down while the outrage bubbled up inside of me.

She rolled her eyes at me and chuckled. “Maybe not for the 12th century, which is the time period _you’re_ stuck in, but for the 20th century, it’s quite proper. Besides, what does a man who doesn’t even have electric lights in his house know about what’s trendy? Nothing, that’s what! So, I’m buying it.”

Off she flounced with her gift for Alice in hand. I’d never admit it to her face, but I agreed that Alice was going to like it, and predicted that she’d squeal at the top of her lungs when she opened Rhodes’ gift. Knowing Mary Grace, she’d probably squeal, as well. I was well aware that my social conventions were, at times, antiquated, but what was wrong with that? _Nothing, that’s what!_ She returned a few minutes later with Alice’s gift, which was now nestled in a gaily wrapped box.

“Do you know anyone who’d appreciate these cigars? The man says they’re from Cuba and are the highest quality they have. Personally, I think they must have gold dust inside of them, as much as they cost.”

“As a matter of fact, I do know someone. Mary Grace’s husband, Wills, smokes cigars. He’d like them,” I said, smiling at the memory of our conversation in his study, with the fragrant smoke swirling around us.

“Wonderful! I’ll have them wrapped.”

She glided off on her mission and left me at odds with myself. I wandered aimlessly about, glancing at various items for sale, but not seeing anything that would make Rhodes squeal with delight.

My gaze slid quickly over a small innocuous box and then hastily returned. It was white and slender. A single word was written across the front: the name of the company. Only someone who had lived with an artist would know what was contained inside that plain box. I reached down and removed the lid. Nestled inside were five sharpened charcoal pencils. I replaced the lid, closed my eyes and saw Daniel’s hand moving across paper…

 

  
_“I know you’re not staring at my arse because I’m sitting on it, and last time I checked my cock was tucked away and behaving itself inside my trousers. So what has you so mesmerized tonight?” Daniel grinned crookedly in that endearing way he had that always made me smile._

_“Don’t you ever tire of it?” I asked._

_“Tire of what? Having you ogle my arse and cock? Hell no!” He snickered and returned his attention back to the paper._

_“Drawing, you idiot,” I answered, annoyed. “You draw all the time. I just wondered if you ever get bored with it.”_

_His hand stopped. He lifted his head and smiled sincerely at me from across the room. “No. Never. I love it.”_

_“What are you drawing?”_

_“The pyramids. I’ve never seen anything like them in my life. They’re simple in design, but so majestic.”_

_I crossed the room and peered over his shoulder at his drawing. The black outline of the Great Pyramids was stark against the white paper. He’d yet to add the shades of gray that would give them depth and make them seem real enough to leap off the page._ _I moved from behind his shoulder and pulled a chair over next to him. With an arm draped across the back of it, I turned my body so that I could watch him draw._

_“Perhaps we can find some art supplies for you in Cairo,” I suggested. “Surely they make something besides charcoal for you to draw with.”_

_He glanced up at me and smiled. “I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I have what I need right here. Oils and pastels are nice, but charcoals are my favorite and always will be. There’s simplicity in a black and white drawing that you just can’t get with any other medium. No, give me paper, a box of sharpened charcoals and a beautiful, well-hung vampire with a cowlick, and I’m happy for life.”_

_His sincere smile turned into a cocky grin, which earned him a frown from me as well as a hard jab to his shoulder. He clutched a wad of my shirt in his fist and pulled me toward him. The kiss was warm and deep and left me wanting more…_

 

  
“What’s that?” Rhodes was once more by my side, eyeing the plain white box at my fingertips.

“Charcoals,” I answered softly.

Daniel had changed so much since that night in Egypt. His humor had disappeared with Matthew’s death, replaced by rage and a violent, fiery temper that ignited at the simplest grievances. Instead of drawing closer together in our grief, we’d pushed each other away until what we had no longer resembled anything remotely like the loving relationship we’d built over the decades. We’d hated each other by the time I’d decided to leave Europe for good. If Vladimir and Stefan hadn’t intervened in our fight and broken us apart, we might have killed each other that day.

“He’d love those. Buy them for him.”

I nodded silently, too depressed by my memories to argue with her. She removed them from underneath my hand and took them to the counter to be purchased and gift-wrapped.

I turned in a circle and swept my gaze over the tables around me, searching for a gift for Rhodes. When I spotted the shallow, flat boxes with their tops removed and the contents revealed, I knew they were the perfect gift, not only for Rhodes but for Alice, as well. I couldn’t buy them with her there, so I decided I’d leave early and purchase them before going to work that evening.

 

* * *

  
_**Thursday evening, December 13, 1906** _

 

Alice ate her dinner without protest. When everything was gone, she reached for me. She didn’t have to say a word. I could read her thoughts just from looking into her frightened green eyes. I wrapped her in a blanket and rocked with her on my lap.

“Where is Mary Grace?” she asked quietly. A side effect of excessive vomiting was an extremely irritated throat. Her voice had yet to return to its normal exuberant level.

“I’m not sure, but she’s probably with a patient.” That answer seemed to satisfy her. She sighed and snuggled closer against me.

A few minutes later, Mary Grace rushed into Alice’s room. “I’m so sorry I’m late. It couldn’t be helped.” She bent over Alice and smoothed back her hair. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“I’m good,” Alice answered, smiling sweetly up at Mary Grace.

But I wasn’t smiling. I focused on Mary Grace’s face as she fussed over Alice. She was paler than usual and she smelled of sickness. Something was wrong.

“Did you eat?” Mary Grace asked.

Alice nodded. “It was good, too. I had potatoes and carrots and I squished them all up together like you showed me. They turned orange and were all ooey-gooey.” She giggled.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Mary Grace smiled weakly and sank down into the nearest chair, her face growing even paler.

“Are you all right?” I asked Mary Grace.

She nodded and swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

I had my doubts about the truth of that statement, but I kept them to myself.

“I even ate the boiled egg. It was runny inside, but I ate it anyway,” Alice boasted.

Mary Grace’s hand flew to her mouth, and the next thing we knew she’d fled from the room.

“What’s wrong?” Alice wailed in a panic. “Is Mary Grace sick?”

I quickly deposited Alice, blanket and all, back onto her bed. “I’m sure she’s fine, but I’m going to go check on her. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Alice nodded. Her eyes were huge and filled with fear.

It wasn’t hard to find Mary Grace. I simply followed the sound of her violent retching until I reached the door to the women’s water closet. The vomiting stopped momentarily, long enough for her to moan in agony, and then it started again. I argued with myself, debating what I should do. In the end, I dismissed the ridiculous social convention that barred men from entering. I pushed the door open and in seconds was by Mary Grace’s side. She was on the floor near the toilet, moaning and spent, her head and arms resting on the rim.

“Mary Grace.” I gently pushed aside a few tendrils of hair that had fallen across her face and wiped away a stray tear. “What can I do to help you? Should I get a doctor?”

Another fit of violent vomiting prevented her from answering. The acrid scent of her stomach contents filled the air, its sick stench flooding into my lungs and bringing forth painful memories:

 

  
_“Katie! What can I do to help you?” I asked, trying desperately to hide the panic that was consuming me._

_“Nothing!” she gasped painfully. “There’s nothing.”_

_She choked before she could finish her sentence, choked on the contents of her stomach as they gushed violently out of her mouth and into the nearly over-flowing chamber pot. The smell permeated the room, my skin, and my lungs—it was the smell of despair and helplessness. All I could do was hold her and keep her hair pulled back from her face._ _After her bout of vomiting stopped, I pulled her against me and cradled her wasted body as close as I could. Her stomach, swollen large with my child, prevented us from truly embracing, but we tried._

 _“This is normal, Michael,” she explained weakly. “All women go through this. It’s the morning sickness. It’s normal. I’ll be fine.”_ _She continued to reassure me, despite the fact that neither one of us believed her words. We both knew the truth, even though we’d never spoke it aloud: she wasn’t going to survive this birth._ _“The baby is going to be fine. He’s strong.” She smiled bravely and stroked my cold cheek with her fiery touch. “I want to give you a child, a healthy, strong boy. If I can do that, then that will be the most important thing I will have ever accomplished in this life. This baby—this child that our love created—must survive, no matter what else happens.”_

_“Katie, no, don’t say that,” I begged desperately, but before she could argue with me, the sickness wracked her body again. By the time it was over, she was too weak to talk. I carried her to bed and wrapped her in blankets. While she slept, I cried silent tears for what I’d done to her._

  
“Your hand feels so wonderful,” Mary Grace said weakly. She grabbed my hand and laid it, palm-flat, against her cheek. “So cool.” She sighed. “Just do that.”

I did as she asked, placing my palms on both sides of her face, and running a hand across her forehead and down the side of her neck. She scooted closer to me and nestled her body against my chest. The scent of her blood was only slightly appealing to me but, nevertheless, I was a little uncomfortable at having her so near.

“You feel like a giant bed of ice. That medical condition of yours is good for something, anyway.” She chuckled softly and my panic began to dissipate. Mary Grace wasn’t Katie. The father of her babies was human, not a vampire. This birth would go smoothly, not end in a bloody, violent death like it had with my beautiful Katherine.

Finally, Mary Grace pulled away and seemed embarrassed now that the worst was over. “Goodness gracious,” she said, fussing with her escaping strands of hair. “Alice is probably fit to be tied, and you’re sitting in the floor of the women’s water closet!” She laughed and straightened her bodice. “I’m fine. Go reassure Alice and I’ll be right behind you. I just need to freshen up a bit.”

“You’re sure you can make it on your own?” I asked hesitantly. “Maybe I should walk back with you.”

She glared at me with her icy-blue eyes. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

 _And stubborn, as well,_ I thought, but wisely kept that comment to myself. I helped her from the floor. She seemed strong enough to manage on her own, so I made a graceful exit from the water closet before my presence was accidentally discovered.

 

* * *

  
Alice was sitting on her bed, her forehead resting on her knees. I couldn’t see her face, but I could certainly hear her pitiful attempts to keep from crying.

“Alice.” Her head popped up at hearing her name. She swiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Mary Grace is fine. She’s just sick at her stomach because of the babies. This is perfectly normal. She’s going to be just fine.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “But Wills is going to make her stay home and rest for a few days. I’m going to miss her.”

That was a relief to know, but I had a pretty good idea how Mary Grace was going to feel about that. I didn’t envy Wills when he broke the news to her. Alice was still on the verge of tears, so I decided that a change of subject was in order.

“Guess what I did today?” 

She swiped at her eyes again. “What?”

I winked at her and smiled. “I went Christmas shopping.”

Alice’s eyes lit up. She grinned and began peppering me with questions, her sadness over Mary Grace’s sickness temporarily forgotten.

 

**KATHERINE (Matthew's mother)**

 


	40. Life is Damned Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy pre-Christmas chapter!

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**Tuesday evening, December 18, 1906** _

  
I arrived at work to find Alice’s bed empty and Mary Grace waiting for me in the rocker. “Where is she?” I immediately suspected the worse: another round of treatments.

“Talking with Dr. Soloman,” Mary Grace answered. She quickly went on to reassure me before I lost my temper. “Just talking, I promise. No treatments.”

I swallowed down the panic and sat down on the edge of the bed to await her return.

“She’s been gone quite awhile,” Mary Grace added. “I expect she should be back any minute. Try not to worry.”

I didn’t even bother to respond. Trying not to worry about Alice was an exercise in futility. I worried about her every single moment that she was out of my sight. If I could have gotten away with working twenty-four hour shifts without raising suspicions, I would have lived at the hospital, my room right beside of hers.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, not only to fill the empty silence between us, but also because I was genuinely worried about her.

She waved me off in annoyance. “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little nausea every now and then. Wills is insisting I take a few days off, but I’m really all right, as long as I don’t think about runny eggs.”

I grimaced in agreement, since I disliked runny eggs just as much as everyone else, which brought forth a laugh from Mary Grace. Then a familiar sound grabbed my attention. I listened to Alice coming down the hall long before she arrived—her tiny, rapidly thrumming heartbeat as sweet to my ears as any song that had ever been written. She emerged into her room, holding fast onto Nurse Ruby’s hand.

“Here’s our little jewel, all safe and sound,” Nurse Ruby announced, scooping her up and depositing her on the bed beside me. “Can’t stay. There’s work to be done.” She acknowledged us with a smile and swept from the room, leaving a relieved Mary Grace and me alone with Alice.

“How did it go, honey?” Mary Grace asked, joining us on the bed—me on one side of Alice, and her on the other.

“He asked me if I had had any more visions. I said no.” She looked back and forth between us. I could tell she doubted whether she’d done the right thing. No child should have that type of responsibility on her shoulders. “Should I have said yes?” she asked in a small, uncertain voice.

I exchanged glances with Mary Grace and saw the realization in her eyes of what I already knew in my heart. There were no right answers here, but how did we explain that to Alice?

“Honey,” Mary Grace said gently. “My mama used to say that she hated being caught ‘between a rock and a hard place’ because it’s darned uncomfortable. But that’s where the three of us are right now.”

“What does that mean?” Alice asked.

Mary Grace flicked her eyes my way, silently turning the explanation over to me.

“It means that there is no right or wrong answer,” I explained. “It wouldn’t have made any difference what answer you gave Dr. Soloman, both would have caused bad things to happen for someone.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, pushing out her bottom lip in frustration.

“If you’d answered ‘yes’, then Dr. Soloman would think that the treatment didn’t do any good, and he’d order more, which would be bad for _you._ If you’d answered ‘no’, which you did, then he would think you’re getting better and could be sent home eventually, which would probably make _you_ very happy, but would make Mary Grace and I very sad. That’s what it means to be ‘between a rock and a hard place’. Do you understand?”

She shook her head. “But they’re not going to send me home.”

Mary Grace and I exchanged puzzled looks over her head. 

“Sweetie, if they think you’re all better, then they will,” Mary Grace said gently.

“No they won’t,” she insisted quietly. “Because Mommy and Daddy are gone.”

“Did you have a vision of them?” I asked in astonishment.

She nodded, looking sadly down at her lap. “They’re where it’s all white.”

I glanced sharply at Mary Grace. We were both thinking the same thing: her parents were dead.

“What do you mean by ‘all white’?” Mary Grace asked, keeping her voice calm, despite the fear I saw in her eyes for Alice.

Alice sighed, her tiny shoulders rising and then drooping even lower than before. “The ground is white, the trees are white, everything’s white. White stuff is falling out of the sky and making everything white.”

“That’s snow,” I said with relief. “Remember our lesson about water and how many different forms it can take? Snow is just frozen water falling from the clouds.”

She looked up at me, the wheels turning in her head as she struggled to recall our science lesson so many weeks ago. “Oh,” she said. “It’s snow, not Heaven?”

“No, it doesn’t sound like Heaven, honey,” Mary Grace assured her with a smile. “They’ve moved somewhere where it snows, that’s all.”

She smiled up at me, her heart apparently eased by Mary Grace’s explanation. “But the doctors won’t find them,” Alice said, sounding certain. “They can’t send me home if they can’t find them, and then you and Mary Grace won’t be sad.”

I knew that she’d only meant to make us both happy by saying that, but it had the opposite effect. I felt like the most selfish person on earth for wanting to keep her with me, despite her longing to be with her family. Plus, I felt guilty at being pleased with her vision, because no one could be happier than I that her parents had moved away. But, I also couldn’t ignore her logic, which was surprisingly sound for a six-year-old. The hospital couldn’t just release her to the streets, so until they located her family, she was staying here, exactly where I wanted her. I considered it mine and Mary Grace’s job to make every moment of her life here as pleasant as possible, no matter what it took.

 

* * *

  
**Wednesday morning, December 19, 1906**  
  


I stepped inside my house and immediately felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole and into a strange new world. Like Alice, Lewis Carroll’s character, I wondered where my ordinary life had gone. It looked as if I was now firmly ensconced in the 20th century, thanks to Rhodes. My parlor glowed and it wasn’t from the dim light of candles. An enormous Christmas tree, decorated with shimmering tinsel and shiny glass bulbs, took up one entire corner, its pine scent hanging heavy in the air. The gifts from our shopping trip were now wrapped and scattered around underneath its limbs. The Hoover was sitting upright on the rug in the middle of the room, and Rhodes was wearing an even shorter version of her notorious, and quite scandalous, bloomers. Her knees were showing!

“Surprise! It’s finally finished!” she exclaimed, her face gleaming with happiness, her eyes shining bright with her characteristic mischievousness.

“Rhodes…it’s…my goodness, it’s…so…bright in here,” I stammered as I struggled to take it all in. It probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was the best I could do at the moment.

“It’s the new electric lights,” she said, grinning and pointing to the ceiling.

I looked up and saw a very attractive fixture of some sort hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. It had two glass coverings protecting whatever was producing the bright light.

“It’s an electrolier,” she explained enthusiastically. “The latest in lighting decor by GEC. It’s silver plated, too. Isn’t it just the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen?”

I gave the electrolier as much attention as the spindly contraption deserved, which was just a few seconds. Instead, my eyes were drawn to something of much more importance. “Not as lovely as your legs,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at her and smiling. “I hope you don’t plan on wearing those bloomers in public.”

She purred and draped her arms across my shoulders. “Oh no, they’re only for my darling, delectable and delicious vampire to see.”

We exchanged some very pleasant kisses underneath our new electric light.

“Do we have one of those electrolier things in every room?” I asked, nodding my head upwards to the ceiling.

“No,” she answered, sighing. “Too expensive. We still have to use those ancient candles in the rest of the house.”

“Good, because I prefer candles in the bedroom,” I murmured, pulling her back into another lingering kiss.

“Wait,” she said, wriggling out of my arms. “There’s something else you need to see. Go sit on the Chesterfield and I’ll show you.”

I sighed at having to leave off with the kissing. I was just beginning to enjoy myself. She walked around me and grabbed a long cord attached to the Hoover, pulling it over to the opposite wall near the door. I settled down on the sofa to watch.

“You stick this in here—” she instructed as she poked the cord into some square on the wall that I’d failed to notice until now. “—and then you can use the Hoover!”

I very nearly jumped out of my skin when she turned the contraption on. It was loud, like I suddenly had a locomotive running through my parlor. She pushed it back and forth across the rug, occasionally looking over her shoulder to make sure I was watching.

“Isn’t this amazing?!” she yelled over the horrendous noise. “It sucks the dirt right out of the rug and up into this bag! This Hoover fellow was a genius!”

The longer I watched, the more I agreed. Mr. Hoover was one hell of an inventive man. I didn’t care one whit about the dirt being sucked up into that metal monster. What I cared about was the way Rhodes’ hips swayed from side-to-side as she pushed it all over the rug. Yes, Mr. Hoover was a genius indeed.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think Mr. Hoover intended for a woman to be attacked from behind and then dragged into her bedroom to be wantonly ravished for hours on end, just from using his invention,” Rhodes joked.

I laughed with her. “I predict that once men see that monstrosity in action, they’ll be clamoring over each other to buy one.”

“Oh, you are so naughty today.” She giggled and tousled my hair, which led to a bout of playful wrestling and finally some quiet, contented snuggling.

“Before I forget, I was invited to Mary Grace’s house for an early Christmas dinner Sunday afternoon. I’ll stay for a little while, then stop by and check on Alice, and then we’ll have the rest of the night to ourselves.”

Rhodes sighed. “That sounds fun. I wish I could go with you.”

“I wish you could too, but I’m not quite sure how we’d explain your red eyes.”

“How about Alice? Do you think I could meet _her?_ She sounds adorable, and I’d love to see her open her gift from me.”

Her request brought me up short. I was sure Rhodes would adore Alice and vice versa, but a visit would have to be planned and handled very carefully. Alice had a pesky little habit of blabbing things that were supposed to be a secret. I didn’t know if I could trust her to keep Rhodes’ visit to herself. Plus, I couldn’t have Mary Grace accidentally crossing paths with her either.

“The days before Christmas are very busy at the hospital, with everyone’s relatives coming to visit—a lot more eyes than usual. Let me think about how to arrange it and I’ll let you know,” I said cautiously.

“All right,” Rhodes said, understanding as always. “I hope you can, because she sounds really sweet, and I can tell she’s very special to you.”

 

* * *

 

_**Thursday evening, December 20, 1906** _

 

I arrived at work to discover that Wills had met with success. Mary Grace was staying home to rest at least until after Christmas. Alice was dejected, of course, and also determined to be as grumpy as possible. Nurse Ruby and I figuratively wrung our hands trying to come up with ideas to cheer her up, because an unhappy Alice was not acceptable.

“I know! A Christmas tree! There’s bound to be someone in this hospital who would be willing to go out and scrounge up a little pine tree for our resident jewel,” suggested Nurse Ruby. I enthusiastically agreed, so she scurried off in search of this kind soul who would be our saving grace.

By dinner, a tiny three-foot pine was set up in Alice’s room, in the corner near the rocking chair, and she was beaming with happiness. Instead of our usual lessons, we spent her dinner hour drawing, coloring and cutting out round paper shapes to represent the bulbs. We tied them to the tree with string, and I was given the job of creating the star for the top. I colored it yellow, tied it in place and finally we were done making Christmas.

“Now I just need my presents.” She grinned, flashing her green eyes in my direction, in her characteristically sneaky manner.

“And of course, you already know every single thing you’re getting,” I observed dryly.

She nodded and giggled, which made me smile. _Not everything, you don’t._  Mine and Rhodes’ gifts were safe from her annoying little visions. “Don’t be so sure,” I said with my own sneaky grin. “We surprised you on your birthday, remember?”

She pushed her lip out into a cute pout. “I’ll think really hard and I’ll see it.”

“No, you won’t,” I said, grinning.

“Yes, I will,” she insisted, her brows wrinkling in annoyance above her beautiful eyes.

“Oh, no you won’t.” I laughed quietly and delivered a kiss to her forehead. “I have to get back to work now. I’ll check in on you later.”

As I left her room, I heard her soft, but determined voice whisper behind me. “Oh, yes I will.”

 

* * *

 

_**Sunday afternoon, December 23, 1906** _

 

Rhodes had decided to spend the cold, overcast afternoon hunting while I visited Mary Grace and Wills. I stepped up onto their porch to the familiar sound of a locomotive running inside a house where it shouldn’t be. The door was slung open as soon as I knocked and Mary Grace had me in a chokehold hug before I could react.

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_ ” she squealed. “I love it! It’s incredible! Come look!”

I dropped my bag containing Wills’ gift, and managed to get out a weak ‘You’re welcome’ in between all of the hugging. Perhaps Rhodes had the right idea. Seeing Mary Grace so happy with the gift I’d chosen for her gave me a very warm feeling inside. I had no time to savor it, because she was now dragging me down the hall by the coat sleeve, to the room with the deafening noise.

“Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?!” she yelled over the noise of the Hoover.

I had to fight to keep from laughing, as I was unsure which beautiful thing Mary Grace was referring to: the Hoover itself, or the fact that _Wills_ was pushing it back and forth over the rug. I also noticed that it wasn’t nearly as entertaining watching _him_ as it had been watching Rhodes. He finally noticed that there were people behind him and, thankfully, switched the monstrosity off.

“Morgan! I didn’t know you’d arrived. I can’t hear a damned thing when this contraption is turned on.” He smiled and stuck out his hand in greeting. We shook and he laughed. “I swear, if you tell anyone what you just saw, I’ll hunt you down and hurt you.”

“I won’t breathe a word,” I assured him, chuckling.

“Dinner is not quite ready,” Mary Grace interjected. “So you two have time for a visit.” She embraced Wills and gave me a brilliant smile as she left the room.

“By all means, let’s go someplace peaceful.” He shot a menacing look at the now-silent Hoover and gestured for me to follow him.

We ended up in his quiet and comfortable study again. If I had a larger house, I would definitely have a room like this. There was contentment to be had in soft, leather chairs, the warmth of a fireplace, dim lighting and the aroma of a good cigar.

“Your gift is a big hit,” Wills commented in between puffs on his cigar. “She’s been cooing over the ugly thing like it’s a newborn babe ever since it arrived last evening.”

“I warned you. Lissa has been doing the same thing. She 'Hoovers', as she calls it, every day. I can’t imagine that our rugs are that dirty. Although, I have to admit that it’s quite.. _.stimulating_ …watching her vacuum. That monstrosity has a way of making a woman’s hips sway in the most alluring way.”

“Is that so?” Wills asked, laughing quietly. “Well, I’ll have to remember that for _after_ the babies get here.”

I instantly picked up on his slip of the tongue. “Babies? As in, more than one?” I asked innocently, as if I didn’t already know that Mary Grace was expecting twins.

“You can cut the innocent act,” he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling. “Grace finally told me about Alice and her… _gift_ …as well as her prediction that we’re having two little boys. I must say that I found it quite hard to believe, that is until the doctor told Grace Friday that he believed she may be carrying twins. Do you believe this gift of hers is real, and accurate?”

“Oh, I have no doubt of it,” I said earnestly. “You’re definitely going to have two sons.”

He shook his head in amazement and grinned. “Damn, life is good, isn’t it? Who would have thought that precious little girl could have such a talent? It’s astonishing. Simply unbelievable.”

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, smiling fondly as Alice’s sweet face appeared in my mind.

“You know, I checked with my attorney about adopting her, just on the off-chance that there was something I was overlooking, some obscure law that I didn’t know about.”

I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “What did you discover?”

He huffed softly and shook his head. “Nothing useful. As long as her parents are alive, no matter where they’re living, she can’t be adopted. Of course, the parents could relinquish their rights to her, but what is the chance of that happening? He also said that the hospital may try to release her to an orphanage—they’ve evidently tried that in the past—but with her parents still alive, he doubted that an orphanage would accept her.”

We looked at each other in complete understanding. Alice’s home, for the foreseeable future, was Biloxi State Mental Hospital, no matter whether the hospital wanted to get rid of her or not.

He shook his head in disgust. “Life seems to be the hardest for the little ones among us, doesn’t it? Grace told me about the treatment they gave Alice. When you think of what she went through, it’s enough to make a man want to commit murder.”

“Yes it most certainly is,” I agreed, not even bothering to keep the hatred I felt for Dr. Soloman out of my voice. “I thought of it more than once, believe me.”

He heaved a deep sigh and stubbed out his cigar in a nearby dish. “I guess the only thing we can do is try to make her life in that hellhole as pleasant as possible. Which is why—“ He turned to me and grinned crookedly. “---Santa Claus is making an appearance at Biloxi State Mental Hospital on Christmas Eve, in Alice’s room, in the form of yours truly, Wills Stanfield.”

I laughed aloud as the picture of Wills in a red suit and white beard formed in my head. “Aren’t you a little thin for that?”

He waved his hand in dismissal and chuckled. “Bah! A pillow or two stuffed in the right places and she’ll never know the difference.”

“Uh, Wills,” I said. “I hate to put a damper on things, but you’re forgetting that Alice probably already knows about your plans, just as she already knows what all her gifts are.”

He looked at me, blinked and few times and then frowned. “Damn, you’re right!” he guffawed. “How very annoying.”

 

* * *

  
Dinner was pleasant and filled with friendly conversation. Mary Grace’s sister sat on my right and kept me entertained with humorous stories from their childhood. I, in turn, told them about Alice’s Christmas tree and the decorations we’d made, which elicited smiles all round the table. After dinner, everyone wanted to play Whist, but I bowed out gracefully, pleading the need to check on Alice and then spend some time with Lissa.

Mary Grace and Wills saw me to the door. She spied my bag that I’d dropped in the floor earlier, with Wills' gift-wrapped box of cigars inside. We spent a few minutes exchanging gifts, and I prepared to leave with a larger bag containing gifts for both me and Rhodes. Wills and I shook hands and said our goodbyes. He disappeared down the hall, leaving me and Mary Grace alone.

“I apologize for Sis,” she murmured, her eyes dancing with mischief.

I was suddenly confused. Sis, which was everyone’s nickname for Mary Grace’s sister, had been delightful company during dinner. I failed to see why an apology was necessary. “Apologize for what?” I asked, dropping my voice as low as hers.

Mary Grace’s eyes widened and she laughed quietly. “Morgan, my goodness, are you blind? Sis is sweet on you.”

My mouth fell open in shock. I’d been very careful—as I always was around human women—not to look too deeply into her eyes while we’d talked. How had that happened?

“I’ve tried to tell her that you’re madly in love with Lissa, but she won’t listen. I had to practically throw a tantrum to keep her from knitting you a pair of socks for Christmas.” I was at a loss for words; Mary Grace just laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of Sis. You just go check on our little Alice, and then go home and wrap your arms around your lovely Lissa. I’ll see you at the hospital Christmas Eve. I’ll be the one on Santa’s arm.” 

 

* * *

 

Alice was lying on her side, coloring and humming to herself when I arrived at her room. Instead of going in, I stepped back from the door and watched. I didn’t recognize the tune she was humming, but it was melodic, nonetheless. Her big toe on one delicate foot was wriggling in rhythm with her song. She was deeply engrossed in whatever it was that she was working on. Her silky dark hair had grown until it now draped across her thin shoulders. I smiled to myself when she flipped it back with a frown when it got in her way. And for some unknown reason, a vision of an older Alice swam before my eyes—a grown-up Alice who was slender and beautiful, vivacious and out-going with long, dark hair flowing down her back, and dressed elegantly in the latest fashions. I saw a young woman who was living her life to the fullest, experiencing everything within her grasp with a joy that was contagious.

She must have sensed my eyes on her, because she glanced toward the doorway and spied me. “Morgan!”

At her exuberant greeting, my image of an adult Alice dissolved, and I was returned to the stark reality of six-year-old Mary Alice Brandon’s life. I wanted to take her away from this and give her the life she deserved, but such dreams were unrealistic, at least for the moment. “How’s my Alice?” I smiled fondly and joined her on the bed.

“Good,” she answered. “Did you go to Mary Grace’s house?”

A good ten minutes was spent answering all of her questions: Did they have big Christmas tree? Did Mary Grace get sick? What did I eat for dinner? Did Wills say anything funny? Did any kids come? Did I get any presents? Did we play cards?  I answered all of her questions with as much detail as possible. The longing I saw in her eyes—to be out there and experiencing life like any other normal child—was nearly my undoing. What had been done to her wasn’t right. It made me angry, but it also made me more determined to please her, to make her smile, and even better, to make her giggle.

“Wills was vacuuming when I arrived,” I confided to her, which led to a long explanation as to what a Hoover was and what it did. Of course, then I had to demonstrate what vacuuming looked like—exaggerating my hip movements considerably—and as she imagined Wills engaging in such an activity, her giggles started. She may have been young, but she knew as well as anyone that men simply did not engage in women’s work. I’d succeeded in making her laugh and I smiled to myself as I pictured Will’s reaction when he realized I’d told his secret. But it had been for a good cause; I was sure he’d understand.

“I have something to ask you,” I said when her giggles had finally quieted. “Would you like to meet Lissa? She has a gift for you and would really like to watch you open it.”

She grinned and nodded, as she loved gifts as much as the next child.

“But there’s a catch,” I said very seriously. “You can’t tell anyone about her visit.”

Her dark brows bunched up together over the bridge of her button nose. “Why not?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not for courage, but for the pleasure of having Alice inside my lungs. “Because she’s a princess.”

I waited for her to make the connection. It didn’t take long. “She has red eyes?” she breathed in awe. “Like Asha did?”

“Yes, she does. Lissa is kind, loving and a great deal of fun. You’ll like her.”

She smiled and nodded. “All right. I won’t tell, I promise.”

I smoothed down her hair and smiled back. “You have to keep that promise and not accidentally let it out, because only you and I know about princesses with red eyes. No one else would understand.”

She nodded again. “When is she coming?” Alice whispered, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I bent down, to lend an air of secrecy to our conversation, and whispered, “Tomorrow night, late, after everyone leaves.”

“But she’ll miss Wills dressed as Santa, and me opening all my gifts,” she whispered back, grinning with mischief.

I mussed her hair and laughed. “You are such a little imp!”

She smacked at her hair with both hands to smooth it down, giggled, and then threw her arms around my neck. I buried my face in her hair as she hugged me and smiled as her scent burned a path down my throat. I didn’t mind the pain, because as long as I burned, my singer lived.

 

* * *

  
Rhodes met me at the door wearing only a corset. The electolier was off and lit candles were sitting everywhere I looked.

“I couldn’t get this thing undone by myself. Could you possibly help?” she asked, her voice seductive and soft. She turned around until her back was facing me and lifted her hair. I smiled in anticipation and began slowly untying her laces.

Wills was right. Life was damned good. 

 

 


	41. Christmas 1906

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas story that Mary Grace told to Alice is a modern story (written in 1982), but it has the sound and feel of an old German folktale, which is why I included it in this chapter. It’s one of my favorite Christmas stories: “The Cobweb Christmas” by Shirley Climo (ages 4-8).

**~ MORGAN ~**

 

_**Monday morning, Christmas Eve, 1906** _

 

As soon as I arrived home from the hospital, Rhodes started in on me about opening gifts. I argued that it was more appropriate for us to wait and open them Christmas morning, to which she countered that we were hundreds-of-years-old vampires and that it was ridiculous to wait another twenty-four hours. We went back and forth with our argument until I finally gave in, which we’d both known that I would.

I sometimes wondered why I bothered to argue with the people in my life. I very seldom won. Daniel had never listened to any of my objections about anything, but had simply grinned (or scowled), told me to quit being such a grouch, and then had proceeded to do that very thing to which I had objected to. Rhodes took a different approach: she pestered me constantly until it was a matter of giving in or strangling her, and since I couldn’t conceive of harming a hair on her beautiful head, I always acquiesced to her demands which, it turned out, were hardly ever unpleasant.

As a result, I found myself sitting cross-legged in the floor beside the Christmas tree while Rhodes, on hands and knees in front of me, rustled around underneath the tree for our gifts. I rather liked the rustling, as it gave me a very pleasant rear view of her rounded backside. I was greatly disappointed when she sank back down onto the floor with a huge gift in her arms.

“This is yours.” She placed the big, square, gaily wrapped package on the floor between us. Those beautiful burgundy eyes beamed at me; she wriggled around excitedly on her bottom, clapped her hands together and gave a soft little squeal. “You’re going to love it!!”

After all of these centuries of existence, Rhodes still managed to find pleasure in the smallest things. Her obvious excitement made me more than a little curious to see what was inside the box. I worked patiently at untying the red string that held the wrappings in place until Rhodes growled under her breath and exclaimed, “Just rip it off! You’re taking too long!”

Savoring the moment and indulging in a bit of anticipation was obviously not Rhodes’ strong point. I sighed and ripped the wrappings from the box in one fell swoop. My mouth dropped open in pleasant surprise when I saw the picture on the outside of the box. It was of the train set that I’d admired in the window of the Davis Brothers’ store! “I can’t believe you bought this for me! Thank you!”

“Well, what did you think you were getting, a cravat??” she sputtered and then shook her head. “Christmas is for special gifts.”

It truly was the most thoughtful gift I’d ever received. I would have never bought it for myself, as it seemed a little juvenile for a grown man to buy a toy. But, I also could not wait to open it, get it set up, and begin my quest to figure out how the blasted thing worked. 

However, that could wait. The Christmas spirit suddenly descended upon me in full force. My thoughts turned from the train set to Rhodes and the gift I’d purchased for her. At my insistence, she once again got on hands and knees to rummage around underneath the tree.

“Ah! Here it is!” She sat back down and shook it. I hurriedly cautioned her that shaking might not be such a good idea. She put it up to her ear, which made me laugh. Finally, I realized she was teasing me by procrastinating.

“Just open it. You’re taking too long!”

She tore into it and instead of the squeal I’d expected, she let out a deep sigh of appreciation. “Oh, it’s Chloris and Juno. What a dear sweet man you are. These are beautiful! I love them! Thank you and I expect you to use these later on.” She leaned forward and I met her halfway with a smile and a warm kiss of thanks.

Chloris, the Greek goddess of flowers, adorned the gold-handled hand mirror which Rhodes now held in front of her face.  Juno, or Hera as she was known to the Greeks, was pictured on the matching hairbrush. I looked forward, later on, to brushing Rhodes’ hair, as I found it relaxing and rather erotic, as she already knew.

We both pulled the remaining gifts from underneath the tree and opened them one-by-one. I laughed when I opened Wills’ present to me: cigars. What in the world was I going to do with a box of Cubans? But, as Rhodes scowled and reminded me, it was the thought that counted, and obviously Wills’ considered me a great friend or he wouldn’t have purchased them in the first place. Mary Grace had somehow secured me a copy of Mark Twain’s newest book, _What is Man?_ and also O. Henry’s latest compilation of short stories. I couldn’t have been happier with her choices. Rhodes tore into her gift from Mary Grace, and another soft sigh of appreciation slid slowly from her lips.

“My word, your Mary Grace certainly has good taste. It’s stunning! You must thank her for me.” Rhodes grinned and donned the cream-colored hat, preening at herself with her new hand mirror. “You know what this means, don’t you? Now I have to have a dress, a clutch, and shoes to match.”

As I began to tear open the box with the train set, Rhodes interrupted me. “Wait, there’s one more for you under here. From someone named Sis.” She raised her eyebrows. “Who’s that?”

“She’s Mary Grace’s sister,” I answered and smiled to myself at Sis’s resourcefulness. Apparently she’d found an opportunity to hide her gift in my bag right under the nose of her eagle-eyed sister. I tore into the package and pulled out a very lovely pair of hand-knitted socks.

Rhodes frowned. “Socks?! That’s a rather personal gift. Am I going to have to pay this ‘Sis’ person a visit and rip her to pieces?” she asked, grinning evilly.

I laughed and placed the socks back into their box. “No, she’s just a friend who’d like to be more than a friend, but I only have eyes for one woman. You know that.”

Rhodes smiled in smug satisfaction and wrapped her arms around my neck. A great many moments passed as we indulged ourselves in a number of tender kisses. I finally tore myself from her grasp by citing my intense desire to open my gift and get the thing running so I could study it.

“Wait.” She pressed a hand on my forearm. “I have one more gift for you, but it’s not under the tree. It’s in my handbag. Just let me get it.”

Her back was to me as I waited, curious as to what this mysterious gift might be, and why Rhodes had suddenly grown so serious.

Whatever it was now lay hidden in her closed palm. She sank back down onto the floor and tucked her legs underneath her. “I’m not giving this to you to make you sad, so please don’t be, and I would have given it to you sooner, but the time never seemed right.”

Her palm curled open to reveal a golden band, a wedding ring—Asha’s wedding ring. “Where did you get this?” I gasped, although I already knew.

“I went back to your cottage and searched through the ashes until I found it,” she answered quietly. “You were in no shape at the time to go back and look for it, but I knew that one day you would regret that you didn’t.”

She reverently placed the ring in my hand. I closed my fingers over it, nestling it protectively in my palm. It was the only thing I had left of Asha’s that had actually touched her skin.

“Only you know how much this means to me,” I said softly. “Thank you for doing what I didn’t have the courage to do.”

She wrapped her hands around mine and acknowledged my thanks with a nod. “Merry Christmas, Michael.”

 

* * *

 

_**Monday evening, Christmas Eve, 1906** _

 

As soon as I’d arrived at the hospital Alice had pounced and bombarded me with questions: When was Santa coming? When was Mary Grace going to arrive? When could she open her gifts? When was Lissa coming to visit? What had we gotten her for Christmas? She was as bad as Rhodes with her impatience to get Christmas started. I was finally forced to flee the room, pleading my urgent need to attend to my duties, but in reality it was to save my sanity. Her boundless energy and constant questions were getting the better of me, which left me wondering how such a tiny creature could so easily fluster a centuries old vampire such as myself, who should have been impervious to such things. The dinner hour couldn’t come soon enough to suit me.

It was with much relief that Mary Grace arrived earlier than the appointed hour of Santa’s arrival. She chuckled at my description of Alice and her incessant questions, and then proceeded down the hall to her room to try and calm her down a bit. I went about my duties, only stopping every now and then to briefly peep into her room. Mary Grace was telling her what seemed to be a rather long and involved story, something about spiders and Christmas. I had never heard it before, but decided that ignorance was bliss in this instance.

Finally dinner hour arrived, and Santa not long on its heels. Alice squealed, bounced on the bed, clapped her hands and shouted Santa’s name with excitement. Mary Grace and I exchanged amused glances at once again playing witness to Alice’s incredible acting skills. Wills was the most ludicrous Santa I had ever seen, with his lopsided stomach which listed slightly to the right, and his skimpy white beard and wig that barely hid his dark hair. Alice didn’t seem to mind, however, and gaily played along with the charade.

Gifts were pulled from Santa’s bag. The adults practiced some self-restraint, of course, and instead settled back to watch Alice open hers.

There was a dress, hat and shoes from Mary Grace, and a sailor outfit from Nurse Ruby. A set of roller skates from Wills had me wondering if the man had gone completely daft. I looked askance at him, but he just grinned mischievously and shrugged. Easy for him to smile—he wasn’t the one who’d have to chase her down the halls on those metal contraptions! I no longer felt guilty about revealing his Hoover secret to Alice, and seriously pondered shouting it from the rooftops for all of Mississippi to hear.

The gifts from Sis were the last straw: that new-fangled invention called chewing gum, and a set of ping pong paddles and a ball! I suddenly had a mental image of Alice ricocheting that little white ball off the hospital walls while chewing gum like a cow chewing cud in the pasture. And to think I’d felt Rhode’s gift inappropriate.

Finally, there was only one gift left for her to open: mine. She began to shake and rattle the package just as Rhodes had, and just as I’d done this morning, I cautioned her that that might not be a safe thing to do. We challenged her to guess the contents, knowing full-well that she didn’t know. Eventually, her bottom lip pushed out in frustration; her tiny eyebrows drew together in blossoming annoyance. We laughed and relented and allowed her to tear into the wrappings. I smiled when her eyes lit up—just the reaction I’d been hoping for.

“It’s so pretty,” she said, sighing. I’d bought her a mirror and brush set similar to the one I’d purchased for Rhodes, except with a different design. She held the hand mirror up to her face and pretended to fix her hair like a grown woman, which made us all laugh.

“The cornflowers on the back are my favorite flower,” I offered in explanation. “They used to grow all over the farm where I lived as a child.” Sweet cooing noises ensued from Mary Grace and Nurse Ruby, leaving me wondering what I’d said to elicit such a feminine reaction.

“I love it!” Alice reached for me. I gathered her in my arms and willingly subjected myself to numerous squeezie hugs, as she called them. After me, she hugged everyone else in succession and thanked them.

Then it was the adults’ turn to open gifts, while Alice politely looked on. Wills was thrilled with his cigars and made a remark about great minds thinking alike, and of course, Mary Grace’s gift from me had already been received and enjoyed since Saturday past.

“Now it’s time to open my presents to _you!”_ Alice exclaimed. She slid off of the bed and crossed the room to her little Christmas tree. Underneath were three narrow, crudely wrapped boxes.

“Nurse Ruby helped me make them,” she announced proudly as she handed a box to Wills, Mary Grace and me.

Mary Grace got hers opened first. “Oh my goodness!” she cooed sweetly. “This is beautiful, Alice!”

“It’s daycooo…uh….—” Alice hesitated and looked to Nurse Ruby for guidance.

“Decoupage,” Nurse Ruby supplied. “Alice and I spent several enjoyable, but sticky, afternoons making them.”

“Really sticky,” Alice repeated and then giggled.

She’d made us each a bookmark covered in tiny bits of paper which had been assembled into crude, child-like pictures. Each one had the same image: a rather strange figure that resembled Alice dressed in a “stylish” outfit. In mine, she appeared in blue paper. In Mary Grace’s yellow, and in Wills’, green. Finally, a thin layer of lacquer had been applied, front and back, to glue everything down.

I peered closer and gasped at what I saw. Thin black curlicues ringed the edges of the bookmark, and also formed the “hair” of the paper figure. “Alice, is this _your_ hair?”

She beamed with pride. Nurse Ruby interjected before Alice could answer. “I caught her pulling strands of it out, and then I got to thinking that it would make a nice personal touch.” She shrugged. “We only snipped off the ends. It’s rather pretty, don’t you think?”

She shot us all a pointed look, silently pleading with us to agree and not hurt Alice’s feelings. She shouldn’t have worried. I didn’t know about Wills and Mary Grace, but as for me, I thought the sentiment behind Alice’s choice to use her own hair was beautiful, and the bookmark was a gift I would keep and cherish forever.

“I love it,” I said, smiling. “I’ll use it every day.” The same sentiment was expressed by Wills and Mary Grace.

Dinner hour was extended as we each tried to cajole a bit of food into Alice’s stomach, but we were fighting a losing battle. Wills and Mary Grace finally left around 9:30, leaving me with a stubborn Alice who was determined to learn to roller skate that very evening. Nothing I said could convince her to wait until tomorrow, when I would have time to help her. I left to return to my duties, shaking my head and smiling, as the sound of giggling, and her bottom plopping hard onto the floor, followed me out the door.

 

* * *

 

_**Late Monday night, Christmas Eve, 1906** _

 

Rhodes was waiting at our pre-arranged meeting place—a seldom used outer door on the far end of the hospital—precisely at 11:30pm as we’d agreed, with her gift for Alice in her arms. I released the lock and she slipped inside and into the darkened hallway. She’d piled her hair on top of her head in the latest fashion and topped it with a hat complete with netting to cover her face. I couldn’t believe she was wearing those scandalous bloomers that showed her calves, but I withheld comment. I’d never win an argument with Rhodes over fashion, so I didn’t even bother trying. Besides, she looked very nice in them.

“You look beautiful,” I murmured. I smiled and raised the netting from her face, planting a soft kiss on her mouth.

“Thank you,” she said, grinning. “Now, where’s that precious little Alice? I can’t wait to see her open her gift.”

“Uhm, Rhodes...“ I hesitated as I thought about the best way to deal with the name issue. I decided that there wasn’t a best way, and that I should have addressed this much sooner. I was in trouble, pure and simple. “There are some things you need to know first.” Her eyebrows rose. “I go by the name of Morgan Grant here. No one knows my real name.”

“Morgan Grant? Why on earth did you change your name? It’s not like it’s going to prevent Aro from finding you.”

“It had nothing to do with Aro. Michael means ‘he who is of God’, which doesn’t really apply to me, so I thought it was time for a change,” I said, shrugging. “Morgan means ‘he who lives by the sea’ and ‘Grant’ I borrowed from a very honorable, but flawed, general I met during the Civil War. Morgan Grant seemed more… _appropriate_ …at the time.”

She frowned. “All right, I’ll try to remember to call you Morgan, then.”

“There’s one more thing…”

“What?”

“Well, I sort of…I mean, uhm…I told Alice that…” I sighed and stopped. It was ridiculous for a grown man, and a powerful vampire at that, to be such a coward. “I told Alice that your name was Lissa,” I blurted out and then inwardly cringed.

“You what??!!” Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “I am going to hurt you when you get home.”

“I had no choice!” I spluttered helplessly. “I told her this long, involved fairy tale, which was actually the story of my life, and I wasn’t thinking when I referred to you as ‘Rhodes’ in the story, so I couldn’t use that name when I told everyone you were my lady friend, because Alice doesn’t keep secrets very well, so ‘Lissa’ just slipped out before I thought, and…” I stopped. My pathetic run-on explanation wasn’t doing any good. Rhodes hated her name and any nicknames associated with it and her menacing glare told me her feelings hadn’t changed in that regard. “I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to hurt you when you get home.” I was relieved to see a mischievous sparkle in her eye, and pleased that my bollocks had been spared once again. I hoped.

“Let’s go introduce you to Alice before she falls dead asleep from exhaustion,” I said, quickly steering her in the direction of Alice’s room. “Are you sure you can handle this?” I asked her as we walked. We’d had this same conversation numerous times since she’d asked to meet Alice. Rhodes no longer mingled with humans as much as she used to—just to hunt or to go on short excursions, like our recent shopping trip—but she’d assured me every time we’d discussed it that she would be fine, that she had enough control to deal with it.

“I’ll be fine, Michael.”

 

* * *

 

“Alice?” I peeped into her room expecting to find her asleep, but she was sitting up in her bed with her knees pulled up underneath her chin, waiting. “Lissa is here.”

Alice’s face lit up with excitement. I crossed the room to stand by her bedside. A few moments later, Rhodes emerged into the room. She raised the netting on her hat, exposing her face and burgundy eyes. Alice’s gasped and then smiled.

“You really _are_ a princess!”

Rhodes nodded and smiled, but didn’t answer. She lingered just inside the doorway without breathing. I watched her struggle to gain control of her thirst. I knew without a doubt that she would never harm a child, but I also knew that that didn’t make the battle she was currently fighting any easier.

“You have bloomers!!” Alice squealed and slid from the bed. In seconds, Alice was standing right next to Rhodes running a hand over the fabric of her outfit. “I saw these in one of my magazines.”

I met Rhodes eyes from across the room and whispered in a voice so soft that only she could hear it. “Are you all right?”

She nodded stiffly. She sat the gift in the floor by the door and turned her attention to Alice, smiling down at her as if nothing were wrong. “I hear you like pretty clothes. So do I.”

That was all the introduction Alice needed. She grabbed Rhodes’ hand and tugged her over to the Christmas tree, where her gifts lay scattered neatly underneath. She showed Rhodes her new dresses, hat and shoes, as well as her new toys. I kept telling myself to relax, that Alice was safe, but I’d had too many close calls with her already. I hovered close by while they admired all of her gifts, just in case.

“I think you’re going to like Lissa’s gift,” I said, when I noticed that Rhodes had stopped breathing again because of her nearness. “Why don’t you go open it?”

Alice’s attention was easily diverted. She raced back over to the door to retrieve the package and crawled back onto her bed with the box on her lap. Rhodes shot me a grateful look.

“I can’t get this string off,” she whined in frustration. I hurried to her side and broke the string with ease, and even helped her tear off the wrappings, not that she’d needed any help. Rhodes had moved to the foot of her bed to watch, and was smiling, despite the pain that I knew she was in.

Alice yanked the top off the box and rummaged around inside. “Another dress!”

“Mmm, not quite,” Rhodes said, chuckling. “Pull it out of the box and see.”

Just as I’d predicted, Alice squealed loudly upon realizing that Rhodes had bought her a child-sized version of those horrid and scandalous bloomers which were all the rage now. I quickly shushed her, asking her to keep her voice down, but no amount of scolding could damper the joy that was filling up Alice’s little body.

“Thank you, Lissa! Thank you!!”

Before I knew what was happening, Alice shot across the bed as quick as a lightning strike and threw herself at Rhodes for a hug. I heard Rhodes’ whisper-soft hiss of shock, and saw her body go rigid, as she was suddenly inundated with Alice’s scent. My mind was screaming not to overreact, that Rhodes’ would never harm her, but my instincts were much more powerful. My singer was in danger and I had to protect her. I took two steps in their direction and felt my fists curl into tight balls of their own volition. A very soft and menacingly low growl started deep in my throat. Rhodes’ eyes suddenly met mine and widened in shock as she realized what was about to happen.

“It’s all right, Michael!” she whispered urgently, her voice rapid and soft enough as to go unheard by the little girl who was now hugging her tightly. “It’s all right! I’m not going to hurt her! I have it under control!” She continued to reassure me until I felt my fists begin to uncurl and the strong protective instinct start to recede.

“Can I try it on?” Alice pulled back from Rhodes’ embrace. “Will you help me?”

“Of course you can try it on.” Rhodes smiled down at Alice and smoothed her hair with a tender stroke of her hand. Alice let out a soft squeal of excitement.

“I can’t get this nightgown off all by myself,” Alice complained, turning her back to Rhodes for assistance.

Just before I was forced to turn my own back and give Alice privacy to undress, Rhodes and I exchanged a brief, but intense, glance. A small frown graced her lovely and exotic features. Her beautiful burgundy eyes that had always looked upon me with unconditional love were now filled with confusion and questions. How was I going to explain what had just happened? I finally tore my gaze from hers and turned my back to them in relief.

Once dressed, Alice pranced around the room in her new bloomers, spinning and posing just like the Parisian women in those fashion shows. Rhodes’ laughter at her antics chased the tension from the room and eased my fears. But regardless, for the remaining hour of her visit, I hovered very near to Alice, while Rhodes kept a polite, but cautious distance.

Dressed once again in her nightgown, Alice snuggled underneath the blanket and began telling us the story that Mary Grace had told her earlier, something about Tante and spiders and how they should never be killed because they brought Christmas magic. I wasn’t really listening, but Rhodes seemed engrossed. Alice’s eyes were growing heavier with each passing moment and I knew she wasn’t going to make it to the end of her tale. Sure enough, at the point in the story where Christkindel let the spiders into the house for a peek at the tree, she fell asleep. I nestled her Teddy Bear under the blanket with her and pulled the cover to her shoulders. I kissed her goodnight on the forehead, as I did every night, with Rhodes watching me intently.

We left the room together and shut the door quietly behind us. Rhodes studied me in silence. I felt a little uncomfortable being subjected to such intense scrutiny.

“She’s a very sweet little girl,” she said simply.

“Yes, she is,” I agreed. An awkward silence overtook the small space surrounding us. She was obviously waiting for me to say something else. “About what happened earlier—”

Her hand shot up to silence me. “Don’t. This isn’t the place to have that discussion. We’ll talk about that… _and Alice_ …when you get home.”

Before I could object, she turned and quickly walked away, the staccato clicking of her heels sounding like alarm bells going off inside my head.

 

 


	42. Unintended Consequences

**~ MORGAN ~**

 

_**Tuesday morning, Christmas Day, 1906** _

****

“I have a suggestion.”

Rhodes was seated at my tiny kitchen table still dressed in the bloomers she’d worn to visit Alice, her arms outstretched in front of her on the table, her hands clasped tightly together. She’d failed to greet me at the door, which had added to the already growing dread that had settled over me after she’d left the hospital.

“Let’s leave Biloxi together and travel the world. See the sights like we did when Asha was alive. It would be fun.”

Her suggestion took me by complete surprise. It was a nice idea, but out of the question, for obvious reasons. I would never leave Alice, not even for a short vacation. “I’ve lived here for two years now, and I like working at the hospital. My house may be small, but I’m content here. I don’t want to be a nomad again with no place to call home and, in all honesty, I’m not comfortable leaving Alice alone and unprotected.”

She studied me in silence, her face unreadable. Finally, she nodded and then abruptly changed the subject. “Now that you mention it, just what are your plans for Alice?”

“Plans?”

“Being able to see your future? To see Aro coming before he gets here? I can’t imagine you’d let a powerful gift like that go to waste. You _are_ going to change her?”

“I have no plans to do that,” I answered. “In the beginning, I’ll admit that I seriously considered it, but I’ve since decided against it. I washed my hands of creating newborns after everything that happened in Romania with Daniel and the Volturi. I refuse to bring any more humans into this life. I wouldn’t change her even if she asked me to.”

She frowned and averted her gaze, focusing on her fingers, which were still intertwined tightly together. “So, you’re not going to change her, but you’re going stay here and protect her. From what? And for how long??” She raised her eyes from her hands and considered me, her brows knit together in confusion. “This just doesn’t make any sense. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

And so it all came down to the one bit of information about Alice that I’d withheld from her. I wasn’t sure if it had been a subconscious purposeful decision on my part or simply a matter of it never coming up in conversation. Whatever the reason, the time had come for the truth. The first glimmerings of fear rippled through me at how she would react to the news.

“Alice is my singer.”

Her reaction was instantaneous. Her hands shot apart. She sat back in the chair, her eyes widened in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me this from the start? Why did you hide this from me?!”

I sat down at the table opposite her and reached for her hand. She yanked it from my grasp and hid both in her lap. She was very angry with me, and it hurt more than I could have ever imagined. “I didn’t realize it was relevant. I mean, Alice is a child and we’re both adults. I didn’t see how it would have any bearing on our relationship. I didn’t purposely hide it from you.” Or perhaps I did. Perhaps my subconscious was the wiser of us?

Her eyes softened into profound sadness, and in that instant my fear grew from just a glimmer to outright panic.

“It is relevant. To me it is,” she said softly. “You must remember that I’ve seen the bond between a vampire and a singer first-hand: you and Asha. If a vampire doesn’t kill their singer, then the connection formed, at least on the vampire’s part, is practically unbreakable. You already have this connection with Alice.”

Before I could argue that point, she continued. “Asha saved me from the hellish human life that I was trapped in. I was eternally thankful and indebted to her for rescuing me and giving me a better life as a vampire. We were close, as close as any two people could be without being lovers. She was my sister, my mother, my confidant, and my friend. We were inseparable. Even our dalliances with men couldn’t break the bond we had. That is, until she met _you_ , her singer. Our relationship changed after that and there was nothing either of us could do about it. The pull for her to be near you was just too strong for her to resist. She told me once that the thought of never having your scent in her lungs would be unbearable, even though it caused her pain. She would have killed anyone who would have tried to hurt you—even me. We both knew that, and it was something I had to learn to accept. I have no doubt in my mind that you would have killed me last night if I’d tried to hurt Alice.”

I’d already killed to protect Alice once, and I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t hesitate to do so again, but kill Rhodes? Was I capable of killing anyone to protect Alice, even people I loved?? “I love you. I wouldn’t harm you in any way, let alone kill you. That’s ridiculous and inconceivable to me.”

She smiled sadly. “You didn’t see your eyes. You would have killed me without hesitation. It’s a horrifying thing to accept about yourself, but you must. Asha had to accept it: the fact that she’d kill her best friend in the entire world to protect her singer. And I had to accept that I was no longer the most important person in her life. It was a very difficult time for me and I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Do you think that my heart is so small that I cannot love more than one person at a time?” I asked, struggling to keep my growing anger at bay. “Can I not love you and Alice both?”

She shook her head. “I will not share you with another woman. I refuse to do that, for the safety of my own heart.”

My temper punched a hole in my control at the implication of her words. “You make it sound like I’m in love with her! She’s just a little girl! It’s not like that! I don’t love her in that way!!”

“Maybe you don’t now, but ten years is nothing to a vampire. You know that. In ten years, she’ll be a young woman of marriageable age. Can you honestly tell me that you’ve never considered the future? You’ve never once thought of her as the woman she’ll become, instead of the child she is now?”

I couldn’t deny it because I had, in truth, had such thoughts. More than once, I’d pondered Alice’s future and her feelings for me. Would she think of me only as a father figure? A close friend? An uncle? A lover? A husband, even? Every possible scenario had crossed my mind at one time or another. Rhodes saw the answers to her questions in my eyes and heard them in my silence.

“I can’t stay here,” she said simply.

The shock of her announcement hit me with the force of a hundred fists to my stomach. “Rhodes…no,” I said, my voice shaking despite my attempt to stay calm. “I don’t want you to leave. This is absurd. You’re reading more into this than there is.”

She reached across the table and took both of my hands in hers. “Neither one of us can see the future. You can’t guarantee that ten years from now you won’t love Alice as a man loves a woman. You can’t guarantee that ten years from now she’ll only love you as a father figure. You can’t guarantee anything. If I stay and fall deeper in love with you with each passing year, what happens if one day you discover that your singer is in love with you? Am I supposed to just step aside and let her have her turn? Is that what you’re asking me to do? Even if nothing comes of this relationship except the love of a father for his daughter, and vice versa, Alice will still come first in your life and everyone else, including me, will come second. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it, and I know it to be true.”

“We just found each other. Please don’t leave.”

My pleas fell on deaf ears. No amount of begging could change her mind. I watched helplessly as she packed her things and prepared to walk out of my life. Memories of the day I’d similarly walked out on her flooded my mind. She’d begged me to stay then, just like I was begging her to stay now. I professed my love for her, just as she’d professed her love for me that day so long ago.

“Are you doing this to punish me because I walked out on you after Asha’s death?”

She stopped in the middle of her packing. “No.” She crossed the room and surprised me by cupping my face tenderly between her hands. “I’m not doing this to punish you. None of this is your fault, and I’m sorry if you came to that conclusion from the things that I’ve said. It’s not your fault that Alice is your singer. It’s not her fault that her blood sings to you. She’s innocent in all of this, and I hold no malice in my heart for that precious little girl, or for you. None of this could have been foreseen by any of us. I love you, and have loved you since the day you opened your eyes as a vampire. My feelings for you will never change. Never. I just cannot share you with your singer, no matter her age or the nature of your feelings for each other. If you think this is easy for me, you’re so wrong.”

Her voice trembled, and I knew that if she were human, her eyes would have been filled with tears. Mine would have also. As it was, the pain in my chest was real; the ache of loss was just beginning to settle into my heart. I asked her several times if there was any way we could work this out, but she always gave me the same answer: she couldn’t live in the shadow of a singer again, and she said it with such profound sadness that it was impossible for me to be angry with her. Incredibly, I believed that her pain was as great as mine at that very moment. She dragged her bags into the parlor and I trailed after her, helpless to do anything but watch her leave.

“Is this goodbye forever?” I asked, struggling to keep my composure and not grovel on the floor at her feet.

She frowned, and then there was that sad smile again. “No. I can’t stay away from you for very long. I’ve never been able to do that successfully.”

Her statement made no sense, as she’d been away from me for centuries at a time in the past, but I let it go, only happy that our parting didn’t seem to be a permanent thing. I now had some small hope that she would change her mind in the future and come back to me. We kissed—a bittersweet coming together of our mouths that left me heartsick and feeling empty inside. When the front door clicked shut behind her, it felt like a dagger had been plunged deep into my chest and twisted until my insides were nothing but a mangled mess.

I sank down onto the Chesterfield and let my eyes roam over the room. The Christmas tree looked suddenly bare with all of its gaily wrapped packages gone from underneath its boughs. The Hoover stood in the corner looking just as lonely and useless as I felt. The Victrola was destined for a life of silence, as I doubted I’d ever have the heart to listen to it again. The boxed train set was still sitting, unopened, on the parlor floor, the pieces inside waiting to be assembled and for electricity to bring them to life. It pained me to realize that that innocuous metal toy suddenly bore an uncanny similarity to my life. It felt like I was on an endless trip, just like that train, with no destination and no purpose.

I sighed aloud to an empty room. What was the point in living if all you did while on this earth was hurt the people who loved you?

 

* * *

 

_**Tuesday evening, Christmas Day, 1906** _

 

“Say your fours.”

“I want to play with my toys, and besides, the fours are dumb.”

I sighed and ignored the quiet snicker I heard from Mary Grace’s corner of the room. I wasn’t going to get any support from her, apparently. “Say your fours and then you can play with your toys,” I said, offering a compromise and fighting my increasing impatience with her childish stubbornness.

“The fives are funner,” she said, pushing out her bottom lip in defiance.

“There’s no such word as ‘funner’. It’s ‘more fun’. Now, say your fours,” I said with just as much stubbornness.

“No!” she snapped defiantly.

I glanced at Mary Grace who was sporting a delicately raised and outraged eyebrow. Alice’s behavior was completely unacceptable and we both knew it. However, only one of us actually cared at the moment.

“Fine. Just forget mathematics then, and play with your toys. We’ll continue this tomorrow.” I rose from my chair and stalked from the room, perfectly aware that I’d just acted like a complete fool and an immature idiot, but I seemed unable to control my own behavior.

I raced up the stairs as fast as possible until I found myself standing on that isolated balcony where Alice had almost fell. I stared out into the night sky wondering why I’d even bothered to come to work. I was too depressed to be of use to anyone tonight, perhaps for a great many nights if I were to be honest with myself. I’d underestimated my ability to go on without Rhodes in my life. She’d only been gone a few hours and I was already falling apart.

“Morgan.”

Mary Grace’s voice interrupted my self-flagellation, which was disappointing. I could have easily passed an entire night ruminating over my faults and failings, and raking myself over the coals with delight. Sometimes a person needed to wallow in self-pity like a pig wallowing in its own slops. It was far from cathartic, but enjoyable all the same, especially if your mind was in the right place for it, and mine was. I’d spent a very long time after Rhodes had left going over each and every incident in my life in which I’d hurt someone I’d professed to love. The list had been depressingly long.

“What’s wrong? And don’t you dare tell me ‘nothing’.”

I wouldn’t have dreamed of being less than honest with someone I considered one of the few friends I had on this earth. “Lissa left.”

Her soft hiss of shock caused my heart to start hurting all over again. “What happened? I mean, if you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”

“It was nothing earth shattering,” I answered. “We didn’t fight. It wasn’t an angry separation. It was just a very sad realization that it wouldn’t work.”

Her warm hand closed over my cold one, which was curled around the iron railing in a death grip. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“You’re doing it right now,” I said, managing a weak smile in her direction. “A friend who listens and doesn’t judge is a rare find. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She nodded and removed her hand from mine. “Alice was upset, of course. Young children often blame themselves for things that have nothing to do with them, so don’t feel bad about that. If you could, try to talk to her sometime tonight, just to reassure her that it was nothing she did.”

“I’ll do that,” I answered. “Thank you again for being such a good friend to me.”

 

* * *

 

_**Late Tuesday night, Christmas Day, 1906.** _

 

I hovered just inside Alice’s door and watched her. She was drawing. Her ebony hair cascaded down from her head and in front of her face like a silken waterfall. She’d occasionally slap at it, or push it behind her ear, but it always fell back, much like my cowlick. I smiled fondly at the thought of two beings so completely different as we were having this one small thing in common. I emerged fully into her room. Her head immediately popped up and I was greatly relieved to see that she hadn’t been crying. Seeing her stunning green eyes blood-shot and red because of me would have been my undoing.

“It’s almost your bedtime.” I sat down on the bed beside her and helped her gather up her papers and crayons.

“I practiced my fours. I’ll say them for you before I go to sleep.”

I wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out again. She’d practiced her fours in the hopes of getting back into my good graces. It wasn’t possible for me to feel any smaller than I felt at that moment. The unconditional love of a child must come from the depths of a bottomless well.  “We’ll worry about the dumb old fours tomorrow, all right?”

She giggled, which made me smile for the briefest of moments.

“You’re sad,” she said simply, her green eyes fixed intently on my face.

I decided to be honest with her as much as I possibly could, considering her age and maturity, of course. “Yes, I am,” I answered softly and nodding. “But it has nothing to do with you, or the fact that you think the fours are dumb and the fives are funner. I promise.”

“Then why?”

“Lissa and I...“ I hesitated, considering how to best phrase it. “Lissa and I aren’t together anymore. She left Biloxi.”

“Why?”

“It just wasn’t the right time for us.”

Her forehead crinkled. I knew she didn’t understand my explanation, but thankfully she didn’t press me for details. “Mommy and Daddy used to scream a lot when they were sad. Did you and Lissa scream?”

“No, we didn’t shout or fight. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“I liked her,” Alice said sadly. “She was pretty and nice to me.”

“I liked her, too.” I fought to keep my emotions hidden, but it was difficult. Alice’s simplistic words were heartfelt and true, and hurt worse than a long and elaborate poem of lost love ever could have.

“She’s not ever coming back?”

“Oh, she’ll come back eventually,” I said, putting on a brave smile. “She said that she would, and I believe her.”

“I don’t like it when you’re sad.” She dropped her eyes and stared down at her bed, her fingers picking idly at the threads in her blanket.

“Neither do I, but I’ll be all right. You are not to worry about me.” I tugged at her chin until she was looking at me again. “Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise. But, if I was your lady friend I wouldn’t leave.”

Although she had no true grasp of the meaning of her words, the sentiment behind them touched my heart. Alice was fiercely loyal to those she loved, even at this early age. The man who eventually won her heart would be a lucky man indeed.

“Well, I should hope not,” I said, chuckling. “Because if you did, there would be no one to help you change the nappies on those eighty-seven children of ours.”

She giggled, which made me smile. “Morgan, you’re silly.” She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed. “I love you,” she murmured against my shirt.

I held her close, barely noticing the burn in my throat that always came with her nearness. Alice was a child, and of course she could never replace Rhodes in my life, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t comfort to be found in her smile, her sweet giggle, or her endearing stubbornness.

“And I love you."

 


	43. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t read “The Birth of a Friend” or “Destiny: a Daniel and Rhodes One-Shot” this chapter will come as a complete shock to you, and you may not understand a lot of what is going on. However, those who HAVE read the story of Michael/Morgan’s life will most likely be ecstatic by the end of this chapter. I know I was… (P.S. No Kleenex needed.)

**~ MORGAN ~**

The days following Christmas were horrible.

Trying to get Alice to calm down from the excitement of the holidays and concentrate on her studies was hopeless. Her stubbornness had risen to new levels. I found that as the days progressed I didn’t have the will to fight with her anymore. I allowed her defiance to continue day after day, despite knowing it was wrong, and that I was doing her a great disservice by not insisting on obedience. My heart just wasn’t in it any longer. I was floundering from Rhodes’ departure and seemed unable to regain my focus.

In fact, the more I thought about the state of my life, the more I began to believe that Alice would be better off with someone else as her protector. Once again I questioned the wisdom of whatever higher power had put me in her path. If the pattern of my past existence had been used as a measure, then any wise, omnipotent god of any worth would have realized that my presence in Alice’s life would bring her nothing but pain. That seemed to be the case with everyone who had come into contact with me: first Asha, then Daniel, then Katherine and my son, Matthew, and finally Rhodes. Why should Alice be any different?

There was no help to be had from Mary Grace. She was often sick to her stomach and couldn’t stay with us during dinner. She confided to me that Wills was pressuring her quite strongly to quit work and take to her bed for the duration of the pregnancy. I wholeheartedly agreed with Wills, but I held my council and kept my opinions to myself. But, it was obvious even to me—a man with little experience in “normal” domestic affairs—that Mary Grace could not continue to work much longer.

And to top it all off, we received word from Nurse Ruby that Mrs. Filkins would be returning to her position the day after New Years. In my current depressed state of mind, I had no confidence in my ability to deal with her unpleasantness. I feared that one harsh word to Alice, or one incident of abuse or neglect, would result in me ripping her apart, simply for the pure joy of it.

I was emotionally unstable. No question about it. I was fully aware of it, but seemed unable to rein in that part of me that so enjoyed the brooding, the self-punishment, the eternal criticism, the wallowing in self-pity. Rhodes had been a positive force in my life in the short time she’d been with me, and now she was gone, taking her enthusiasm and supreme confidence in my goodness with her. There was no one to take me to task over my pessimism, so I drowned myself in it with glee.

I passed my evenings completely immersed in my work to the exclusion of all else. I still spent time with Alice, but more often than not we seemed to be in conflict with each other now. I often left her room frustrated and angry. The rational part of my brain screamed at me that I was being selfish, immature and heartless, with a child no less, who was too immature to understand what was going on. Unfortunately, the rational part of me was too weak to fight my inner demons, who were viciously strong and who thrived on suffering and fed my anger without end.

My days were hell. I hated being in my house now. Everywhere I looked I saw Rhodes, heard her laughter, saw her smile, the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. I’d not gone into the bedroom since she’d left. The door to it stayed shut and would never again be opened by my hand. Some days I wanted to rip everything in my house apart. I dreamed of pulverizing the Victrola and flinging its pieces to the far corners of the earth, and all for the simple fact that its sweet music reminded me of Rhodes and our dancing together. I wanted to smash the Hoover to tiny bits of metal with my fists, but restrained myself as I remembered how much she’d loved that ugly monstrosity. The train set still sat in my floor, unopened and neglected. I didn’t seem to care about what made it work anymore.

I was drowning in anger, depression and self-loathing, and enjoying every single minute of it, when something suddenly blocked my steadfast journey down the road to emotional oblivion: a stubborn brick wall of resistance; an unmovable force of iron will and hot temper that simply refused to step aside and let me continue on in happy misery.

 

* * *

 

_**Late Monday afternoon, December 31, 1906** _

 

I stood and stared at the bookshelf without seeing or caring. I wasn’t interested in reading, so I wondered why my legs had even carried me across the room to the shelf in the first place. Maybe the rational part of my brain had decided to finally put up a fight and get my attention back to things that were considered normal. Apparently, being an inert object that sat on the Chesterfield for hours on end doing nothing but thinking, wasn’t acceptable any longer. I sighed in defeat and took a book from the shelf. I opened it, flipped through it, and threw it to the floor in disgust. I’d read it before—ten times before, to be exact—and I refused to read it again. I’d rather spend the next hours reliving the countless murders I’d committed in the past than read a single line in that book.

It was at that moment that a soft knock sounded behind me. I didn’t turn around and rush to the front door in excitement to see who stood on the other side. I didn’t care, and I truly didn’t want to see anyone, unless it was Aro and Felix come to separate my head from my shoulders, or perhaps James come to finally wreak his revenge upon me for what I’d done to him. I prayed to that non-existent God, whom everyone seemed to blindly worship, that it was someone whose sole purpose in life was to hurt or kill me. Such was the depth of my despair. The knock sounded again, and when whoever was on the other side realized I wasn’t going to acknowledge their presence, they opened it themselves, and closed it behind them.

I was suddenly transported back to England. The faint scent of a forest bathed in cleansing rain, and the comforting smell of clean linen dried in the sunshine, spread throughout the room and filtered into my lungs like a breath of fresh air.  _Daniel._

“An unlocked door. Not very smart, even for a vampire,” he said quietly and with no trace of emotion in his voice. “I could have been anyone.”

I slowly turned around to face him. Just like his voice, his face was a blank, emotionless slate. He stood by the door looking calm and relaxed and arrogant as hell: classic Daniel Hart behavior when he was angry and trying to keep his temper under control.

But arrogance aside, I couldn’t stop myself from looking him over. It had been so long since I’d actually seen him in the flesh, and he was still as beautiful to my eyes as he’d always been: dark hair that tended to curl at the ends, high forehead, that full lower lip that women and men alike seemed to adore (including me), mesmerizing eyes that made one forget that they used to be merely brown. He was dressed sharply and in the current style: creased black trousers, a high-collared white shirt that was informally unbuttoned at the top, a matching black waistcoat, and finally a cut-away morning coat that reached past his knees. His shoes were shiny black mirrors.

“Should I turn around and lift the tails of my coat so you can inspect my arse?”

He roughly shrugged off his morning coat and threw it onto my kitchen table. He made a slow turn and presented his back to me. If I’d had a knife in my hand at that moment I would have tried my damnedest to bury it deep between his shoulder blades. When he turned back around, his smirk lacked the playfulness that usually came with such remarks between us. It was hateful and snide.

“Why are you here?” I demanded sharply.

His mouth twitched. The tension in the room rose dramatically as his body visibly tensed. “I’m fine,” he sneered. “Thank you for asking.”

I was in no mood to exchange meaningless pleasantries with the arrogant bastard. Of course he was fine. He was a vampire. “Again…why are you here?” I asked, striving to keep my voice on an even keel and not let loose of the anger simmering in my gut.

His chin rose just a tiny bit in defiance. “Rhodes slid a letter underneath my door. It didn’t go into any details. She just said you needed a friend in the worst way. So, here I am.”

If I could have gotten my hands on Rhodes at that very moment, I would have ripped her head from her shoulders for interfering in my life like this. She had no business involving him in our affairs. “Rhodes was wrong. I don’t need you, so go back to Atlanta and whatever it is that you do there.”

He flinched at my declaration, but as I watched, his temper slowly took control of his emotions, as it always did when he heard something he didn’t like. “Not yet,” he said grimly. “I didn’t come here just to say ‘hello’ and then turn around and leave. It’s not going to be that easy, my friend.”

“You obviously have something to say to me, so why don’t you just spit it out, and then you can leave. Will that make it easier?” I quipped, smirking.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You sanctimonious bastard,” he snarled. “Less than five minutes in your presence and I’m reminded of how happy I was that you finally left Europe!”

“Glad I could at least do _something_ to please you!” I snapped.

We glared at each other across the small space of my parlor for several moments. Daniel was surprisingly close-mouthed, despite the fact that he was mad as hell. But, from experience, and the numerous fights we’d had through the years, I knew how to get him to open up.

“Well?? Get on with it, Daniel. Let’s hear your list of grievances, none of which, by the way, will be your fault. They never are. So, tell me. I’m so very anxious to hear whatever it is that has you so upset.”

His fists clenched tight at his side until his bloodless veins bulged out in his forearms. I smiled inwardly at how easy it was to get him going.

“All right,” he said, his lips curled inward in a flat angry line. “How about this? You turned your back and walked out of my life without a single word of explanation. What kind of man does that to someone he supposedly loves??”

I gaped at him in astonishment. “That’s a lie and you know it! Surely you recall us screaming at each other in Vladimir’s study?! I spent that entire morning before I left trying to tell you the reasons, but as usual, you only heard what you wanted to hear!”

He considered me from across the room, as he fought to keep his temper under control. “I’m here now and I’m listening. So, tell me why you left. Tell me why you never tried to contact me—not a letter, a message through a friend, nothing! For two fucking centuries, _I HEARD NOTHING FROM YOU!”_

His voice had continued to rise until he was screaming at me by the end of his tirade. I waited until the echoes of his fury died down before answering.

“I told you—” I said in the same voice one would use to instruct a simple-minded child. “—that I was tired of creating newborns and tired of killing the ones who didn’t turn out well. I wanted no more involvement in that whole… _vendetta thing_ …you had going with Aro. I was finished with it then and I’m still finished with it now. I want nothing to do with it.”

His lip curled over his teeth; his fists balled up tight against his thighs. An outburst was seconds away. I steeled myself for whatever was coming.  _“VENDETTA THING??!”_ he yelled, his whole demeanor pulsating with fury. “This… _vendetta thing_ …as you call it was me standing up for Matthew! Somebody had to do it, because his own father sure wouldn’t!!”

I hissed viciously. “I do _NOT_ want to talk about Matthew!”

“Aro murdered your son and you did nothing about it!” he shouted, ignoring me. “You still do nothing! You won’t even stand up for your own son!!”

I felt my fingers curling of their own volition into tight balls. I was seconds away from plowing my fist into his face.

“You hit me and I _will_ hit you back. That’s a promise,” he snarled.

At the last moment, I came to my senses, remembering back to our last day together when we’d nearly killed each other out of anger. I didn’t want to relive that day ever again, no matter how angry the arrogant arse made me. “Daniel,” I said, my voice calmer, and in stark contrast to his. “There’s nothing we can do. I’ve told you this over and over again. Aro is too powerful. You can’t touch him. What you’re doing—forming these covens to challenge his authority—is just annoying him. You’re like a mosquito buzzing around his ear. One day, he’s going to tire of it and swat you.”

Daniel smirked, and when he spoke, his voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m still here, aren’t I? He hasn’t swatted me yet. And even if he did, you wouldn’t care.” His voice broke on his last words, just as mine froze in my throat. I was stunned that he thought me so heartless.

“I wouldn’t care??” I repeated his statement with astonishment. “I left because I _DO_ care.” His brows pulled together in confusion and suspicion. “Aro will not tolerate interference indefinitely. I knew that one day he’d put a stop to our subversive activities, and I was right. The raid proved that. But you didn’t learn a damned thing from it! You continued to challenge him, to be a prickly thorn in his side, despite my telling you—my _begging_ you—to let it go.”

“It’s not in my nature to just give up,” he said stubbornly.

“I know that, and it’s one of the things I admire about you,” I conceded. “But that stubbornness was going to get you killed, and I didn’t want to stick around and watch that happen.”

“I’d think you’d be glad to be rid of me,” he said bitterly. “Considering you haven’t seen or spoken to me in two centuries.”

I shook my head in disbelief, and then huffed in disgust at his thick-headedness. “I watched Katherine die giving birth to my child and then I had to watch her body burn in that fire before I could change her. Asha and Matthew were both murdered right in front of me, their heads ripped from their shoulders while I stood there powerless to do anything to stop it. Do you have any idea what it would do to me to see _you_ killed as well?? I wouldn’t survive losing another person in my life. My leaving was an act of self-preservation, nothing more. I left because I love you, you idiot!”

He snorted, and the derision in his voice was impossible to miss. “You love me? I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it!” I snapped viciously. “Vampires don’t fall out of love at the drop of a hat! You should know that by now!”

He dropped his gaze to the floor. I wondered, after the silence between us dragged on, what was so interesting about the planks of wood beneath his feet. When he finally raised his eyes and met my gaze I saw more anger in them. “Quit lying to me,” he said quietly. “You didn’t leave because you loved me. That’s all nonsense.”

“I’m not lying to you. You refused to listen to me…“ I shrugged and then continued, “…so I did the only thing I could do to preserve my own sanity. I left.”

“That’s a lie. You left because you blamed me.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “Blamed you for what?”

“For Matthew’s death,” he answered softly, his gaze holding steady despite the fear I now saw in his eyes.

His statement left me speechless for a few long agonizing moments as I tried to grasp how he could have possibly arrived at such a ridiculous conclusion. “What? Why would I blame you?”

Daniel shrugged and slid his eyes away from mine. “Because he got away from me while we were hunting. If I would have been watching him more closely, Aro wouldn’t have gotten to him. It was my fault.”

“Daniel…no,” I whispered in shock. “No. You’re not to blame. Matthew was always slipping away from one of us, remember? It could just as easily have been me he got away from, instead of you.” I crossed the room and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at me. I was shocked that he’d carried the blame for our son’s death on his shoulders all this time. “You’re not to blame. I never thought that. Not once did I ever blame you.”

 _“I_ blame me,” he said simply.

My fury at him evaporated when I saw the depth of his sorrow in his eyes. I slid my hand down his arm until I found his fingers. I grasped them tightly and squeezed. His eyes found mine, and if he’d still been human, he would have been in tears. His emotions had always been close to the surface, and now was no exception. I watched him fight to gain control of his emotions and not break down in front of me.

“I thought you left because you blamed me,” he said, his voice shaky. “I hated you for that. But even worse, I hated myself.”

I let go of his hand and held him fast by his shoulders. “There’s only one person to blame for Matthew’s death, and that’s Aro,” I said coldly. “I left for the reasons I just told you. I couldn’t take any more of the killing, but more importantly, I couldn’t bear to stand by and watch you self-destruct and not be able to do a thing to stop it.”

“Are you telling me the truth?” he asked, still doubtful.

“Yes! I’m telling you the truth. I never blamed you. The thought never entered my mind.”

He sighed in relief, and then nodded. I was sure that the weight of the world that had rested on his shoulders for so long had finally lessened, but knowing the nature of guilt as well as I did, I also knew that the burden was not completely gone. Guilt had an uncanny ability to latch itself onto your heart as tenaciously as a leech clinging to your skin and steadily sucking the life blood from your body.

“God, I’m sorry for all the terrible things I said to you that day,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “You’re not a coward, never have been. And you were a wonderful father. Matthew loved you so much. As the rest, it was uncalled for and every bit of it untrue. I’m sorry.”

I raised his chin with my fingers until he was forced to look at me. “And I’m sorry I hit you. I could have killed you.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he said defensively.

“Yes, I could have, and I very nearly did,” I insisted.

“My old grandmother could have hit harder than that,” he said, chuckling.

The sound of his laughter, even though it was a weak and small attempt at humor, was sweet to my ears. I smiled, but the truth was, if Vladimir and Stefan hadn’t pulled me off of him, he would be dead now. “Then, I guess you should thank your God that it was me, instead of your grandmother, who plowed his fist into your face over and over again.”

He leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. His scent enveloped me like a comforting cloud. “I can’t stand thinking of that day,” he whispered. “It hurt to watch you walk out that door. Even though I was furious with you, it still hurt.”

I placed my palm tenderly against his cheek. “And you think it was easy for _me_ to walk away?? It wasn’t, I assure you. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But you just refused to listen to reason. I had no choice. I had to do it.”

He pulled his forehead from mine and stood up straight. “What will it take for you to let me back into your life?” he asked. “What do I have to do?”

I didn’t hesitate with my answer. “Drop the vendetta against Aro. Stop creating newborns, and stop forming these covens to challenge his authority. Just let it go, Daniel.”

“Done,” he said simply.

His sudden cooperation threw me off balance. I’d argued endless hours with him in Romania, trying to convince him of the fruitlessness of fighting Aro. I’d never gotten anywhere before, and wondered what had changed now. “Really? Why the change?” I asked with suspicion.

“Two centuries without you has made me reevaluate what’s really important in life,” he answered sadly. “I gave up on getting revenge for Matthew nearly a century ago.”

“You did?” I asked, completely shocked at the news. “Celine led me to believe that you were still plotting, that you wanted to form a coven in Atlanta and you wanted my help.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Celine was lying. I don’t know where she got that idea, but I haven’t had an organized coven since the early 1800s. Oh, I have a network of vampire contacts throughout Atlanta, and in other cities, but nothing organized anymore. I paint now. That’s all I do.”

“I had no idea,” I said softly, looking at him in a totally new light. All this time I’d thought him still involved in the useless pursuit of justice for Matthew, which was why I’d stayed away. “If I’d known you’d given it up…” I left the rest unsaid. So much time had been lost because of our misunderstandings, but most importantly because of our stubborn stupidity and pride.

“We’re both hard-headed arses,” he said, shaking his head in resignation.

“Yes we are,” I agreed.

We stared at each other for several uncomfortable moments before it finally dawned in both of our thick heads that we still loved each other, and there was no reason to feel awkward at that moment. I tugged at his waistcoat, which was wasted energy on my part, because he was already closing the distance between us. We caught each other up in a strong bear hug, our fingers digging into the cloth of the other one’s shirt. I breathed his scent deep into my lungs, and I was sure he was doing the same. I felt his lips move and brush against the skin of my neck as he whispered his love for me—a steady stream of endearments which I shared and whispered back to him.

I was the first to pull away. “You were right about one thing. I am a coward, no matter what you think. I avoid pain at all costs. I do whatever I have to do to keep from feeling it or facing it. I used to murder innocent people, now I just walk away from it, or I completely withdraw from the world around me. Those aren’t the actions of a brave man.”

Daniel frowned and looked at me strangely. “I’m sorry? Did you say something? I’m afraid I didn’t hear it, but I’m not going to ask you to repeat it because I’m fairly certain it was complete and utter shit to begin with.” A slow smile blossomed on his face.

An unmovable force for good had come back into my life just when I’d needed it the most. It saddened me more than I could have ever imagined that he would most likely walk away once he learned the truth, just like Rhodes had. He moved toward me, as I’d known that he would, intent on kissing me. I turned my face to the side before our mouths could make contact.

“Why are you turning away?” he asked, and the hurt in his voice wasn't hard to miss. Regardless, I was not going to make the same mistakes all over again that I’d made with Rhodes.

“There’s someone you need to meet before things go any further.”

He backed away a step and studied me. His eyes bore into mine while his mind worked it out. It didn’t take long. He knew me better than anyone. “You have a woman,” he stated matter-of-factly.

I corrected him. “Not a woman. A child. A six-year-old little girl.”

His eyes widened in shock, then he frowned as the reality of my statement sunk in. And so I spent the next half an hour explaining about Alice: her abandonment by her family, her gift, and the fact that she was my singer, which shocked him as much as it had Rhodes. I told him of mine and Rhodes’ conversation and her decision to leave despite her claim to still love me.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he swore softly after my revelation. “No wonder she left. Rhodes is in love with you, and she’s not going to share you with another woman. I may not fuck women but I know that much about them.” I didn’t even bother being outraged at his statement. Apparently, I was the only one who’d not considered that my singer would be a threat to everyone else whom I loved.

“And so you’ll be going back to Atlanta and your life,” I said, careful to keep the pain at saying those words completely hidden from him. “I understand and I don’t hold that against you in any way.”

He looked at me for a few seconds and then chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere. You just said I could be part of your life again and I’m holding you to that. Unless Alice is Katherine reincarnated, I can share you with her. That’s not a problem for me. I’ve shared you before and I’ll do it again. I’m not Rhodes. I’m Daniel Tobias Hart and I’m staying.”

I frowned and struggled to grasp the nonsense that had just come out of his mouth. “You don’t understand. According to Rhodes, who has lived in the shadow of a singer before, there won’t be any sharing. If Alice and I end up loving each other as a man and a woman, there won’t be any room for anyone else in my life. Both you and her will come second to me.”

He smirked and shrugged nonchalantly. “So, how long do I have? Nine or ten years with you? I’ll take them, and then I’ll take my chances after that.”

My mouth dropped open of its own accord. I quickly snapped it shut and glared at him. “You’re insane.”

He grinned. “I know. You’ve told me that a lot.”

I failed to see the humor in the situation. We were talking about the man’s heart and he was willingly laying it on the ground so I could trample all over it without a care. “I won’t let you do it,” I said stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed and the old Daniel Hart I met so very long ago emerged. "You won’t _LET_ me do it? So you’re trying to be my mother again?” He laughed and shook his head. “When it comes to love, you don’t tell me what to do. So, don’t even try. I’m a stubborn, arrogant arse who doesn’t listen to anything except my heart and my cock. I’m staying.”

“Why do you do this? Why do you allow me to keep hurting you over and over again?” I asked, unable to comprehend what made the man seek out my company when all I ever seemed to do was rip his heart to pieces.

He moved closer and cupped my face in his hands. “Because you’re my mate. You have my loyalty and my love for as long as I exist on this earth. Ever since that first night I met you, you have done everything that you could to push me away and convince me that you’re not worthy of love. Two hundred and sixty-five years later you’re still doing it and I’m still ignoring you and loving you despite that. So, just stop, Michael. Stop fighting it and let me love you.”

His words resonated with me more than he would ever know. Rhodes’ leaving had left me emotionally barren. Despite the fact that I felt Daniel was a glutton for punishment, I simply didn’t have it in me to fight him anymore. This beautiful brick wall standing before me wasn’t going to move and allow me to pass on and continue my descent into depression, and I was so very thankful. I just wanted to live my life in peace, with some semblance of normalcy: a job, a home, and someone in that home who cared for me. The truth was, now that the air had been cleared between us, I wanted him to stay. I nodded, silently dropping my defenses, letting the negative thoughts and the self-pity fade into the background of my mind.

He grinned widely and nodded back. He surprised me by kissing me very tenderly. “So when do I get to meet Alice? I’m curious to see how strong her gift is,” he said when he pulled away, surprising me yet again. I’d fully expected the kissing to immediately lead to much more.

I glanced at the clock and was startled to see how much time had passed. “Actually, I’m late for work. I have to go, but come to the hospital tonight around 11:30 and you can meet her.”

He nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Daniel grabbed a random book from the shelf and settled onto the Chesterfield while I prepared to leave. I grabbed my coat and said a quick goodbye. He bid me goodbye as well, and winked at me as I swung open the front door. I very nearly stepped on the enormous blob of yellow fur that was stretched out across my stoop.

“There’s a dog on my porch!” I exclaimed in surprise and glanced over my shoulder at Daniel.

“That’s Molly,” he said.

I looked down at the yellow lump, which was now staring balefully up at me with huge brown eyes. I glanced back at Daniel as the realization of what I was seeing finally hit me. “You found another one?” I asked softly.

“Yes,” he answered and then smiled.

For the first time since Rhodes walked out of my house, I felt a glimmer of happiness. I stooped down and Molly immediately licked my outstretched hand. I smiled at the feel of that warm, wet tongue on my skin. Reluctantly, I stood and stepped over her and onto my porch.

Daniel whistled softly and the mound of fur bounded into my parlor and leapt up onto the Chesterfield. I smiled at the sight of her licking his hand and him scratching behind her ear.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

He nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“So do I.”

It was with a much lighter heart that I made my way to the hospital and to Alice.

 

**DANIEL (a morph between Dane Cook and Chase Crawford)**

 

 

 


	44. Everything is Well

**~ MORGAN ~**

**_Monday night, December 31, 1906_ **

 

I spent the dinner hour mending fences with Alice. I apologized for my behavior the past week, and she apologized for hers. After a long embrace and an exchange of cheek kisses, we had a short writing lesson.

Afterwards, I broached the subject of Daniel’s visit. Of course, Alice was eager to meet him. She was in contact with so few people outside the hospital that any variation in her day was met with unbridled enthusiasm. Even though the meeting was to be at the same appointed late hour as Rhodes’ had been, I knew that she would stay awake no matter what she had to do to accomplish it. I left the room to resume my duties just after an excited Alice jumped from her bed, professing an urgent need to rearrange her toys and clothes in preparation for his visit.

 

* * *

 

At 11:00, a full half-hour before our arranged meeting time, I met Daniel coming down the hall towards Alice’s room. “How did you get in here? The front doors are locked.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t turn into a beetle and fly through the key hole.” He grinned crookedly and snickered at my annoyed look. “Lock picks.”

My first thought was ‘Why in Holy Hell does a vampire need to use lock picks??’ and then I decided to just ask him instead of wasting time trying to figure it out. “Why in Holy Hell does a vampire need to use lock picks?” I asked in a hushed voice. I turned around and started the long walk back down the hall towards Alice’s room, with a smirking, cocky Daniel by my side.

“First off, Hell isn’t holy, and secondly, ripping locked doors off their hinges isn’t exactly ‘keeping to the shadows’ type of behavior. Sometimes a stealthier means of gaining entry to a locked building is needed, especially if you’re engaged in nefarious activities.” He shot me an innocent look and smiled.

I communicated my disapproval by frowning back at him, but decided not to ask any further questions. “I don’t think we want to start analyzing curses, as most of yours are blasphemous or make no sense. As to your past nefarious activities, I don’t want to know.”

“Same old Michael who has to be pushed and prodded into having some fun,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Are you going to be able to handle this?” I asked, ignoring his barb. We finally turned the last corner of the hallway leading to Alice’s room.

“Now you’re insulting me,” he said, feigning offense at my question. “I’ve mingled with humans for centuries. I can resist a little six-year-old.”

“But she’s a very sweet smelling six-year-old,” I reminded him.

He sighed. “Yes, I know. I’ve caught her scent on your clothes, but I’ll be fine. Just don’t rip my head off if I touch her, all right?”

I couldn’t just laugh off his reminder and tell him that ‘I’d never rip your head off’, because I now knew that I would do that very thing if Alice were threatened, even to him.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” I said in a dry, sarcastic voice.

Sometimes, with Daniel around, the urge to commit violent acts came upon me quite frequently. Thankfully, tender moments with him were just as plentiful, or at least they had been before Matthew’s death.

“Are you hearing the hum?” I asked as we neared her room.

He laughed softly. “Am I hearing the hum?? I heard it as soon as I walked through the doors. It’s so loud that I had to block it. I don’t even need to touch her to know that her gift is extremely powerful. If we’d had her in Romania, things would have been different.”

I ignored that statement as well, even though I had to admit that a gift such as Alice’s would have definitely been helpful. I would have never ended up captured and held prisoner in Volterra if I’d had a crystal ball in my corner who could have seen Aro’s raid coming. But, I would never change Alice for such selfish reasons. Never.

“By the way, everyone here knows me as Morgan Grant, so don’t call me Michael.”

It was Daniel’s turn to frown in confusion. “Why did you change your name?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said, brushing him off. “Just don’t call me Michael.”

“Morgan sounds stuffy,” he commented with a snicker.

“Then according to you, it should fit me perfectly,” I snapped.

His quiet laughter was his only response.

When we arrived at her open door, I peeked in and saw my tiny charge ready and waiting for Daniel’s arrival. Her hair had obviously been brushed since I’d last seen her. Everything in her room was now neat and orderly, and all without my having had to cajole her to do it.

“Alice?”

Her head turned toward the sound of my voice. Her eyes lit up, but then almost immediately her manners took over. She straightened her posture and laid her hands primly in her lap, waiting for me to make the proper introductions. I moved to her bedside with Daniel trailing close behind me.

“Daniel, this is Mary Alice Brandon. Alice, this is my friend Daniel Hart.”

Daniel smiled and sat gingerly on the edge of her bed. He’d adjusted his breathing, but hadn’t yet found it necessary to completely stop, as Rhodes had. Daniel had much more resistance to human scents. “It’s very nice to meet you, Alice.”

She smiled sweetly. “It’s nice to meet _you_ , Mr. Hart.”

Daniel frowned and whipped his body around, his eyes comically searching the room. Then he stooped over and stuck his head between his knees, peering underneath the bed. “Do you see a crotchety old man anywhere in this room??” Alice giggled at his antics. He laughed and straightened back up. “Mr. Hart was my father. Please, call me Daniel.”

She hid her laughter behind her hand until she was finally able to stop. “Daniel,” she said finally, still letting a giggle or two escape. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

“Thank you, and so are yours,” he answered.

“Nurse Ruby says they look like emeralds and that we’re two precious jewels.”

“Then I have to agree with Nurse Ruby. They’re the most beautiful green I’ve ever seen.”

“Yours look like the sun. Not yellow, but gold, sort of like my mommy’s rings,” she said, leaning closer and peering up into his eyes.

Daniel shifted his gaze just below her lashes. “You’re right, they _are_ golden.”

Alice sighed sadly. “I wish I had a gold crayon.”

“You have a box of Crayolas?” Daniel asked in surprise.

“Yes, Mary Grace gave them to me. I like to draw pictures and color them. It’s fun!”

A slow smile blossomed on Daniel’s face. “If you like to draw, then that means that you’re an artist. I’m an artist, too.” He glanced my way and I couldn’t help but smile at his blissful expression. Daniel had found a kindred soul in our tiny Alice. “Can I see some of your work?”

Alice grinned and pointed. I knew what she wanted without her asking. Silently, I retrieved her stack of drawings from the drawer of her cabinet and handed them to her. As soon as they reached her hand, she offered them all to Daniel. He took them and began to slowly sift through them, one-by-one.

“Very nice,” he murmured, focusing on one particular drawing. “I know exactly who this is: skinny, a dour look on his face, weird eyes, and that messy hair. It’s Mi—Morgan,” he said, correcting himself at the last moment.

“What does dour mean?” she asked, her brows crinkling together.

“Dour, sour, grumpy….all the same thing,” he answered, grinning crookedly.

If we’d been home alone I would have boxed his ears, or said something equally disparaging about HIS winning personality, but instead I held my tongue like a gentleman.

“He’s not grumpy all the time, just sometimes. He smiles sometimes, too,” Alice said in my defense.

“Really? He actually smiles? Are you sure about that?” Daniel asked in exaggerated astonishment.

My patience at being the topic of conversation as if I weren’t even in the room, reached its short end. I picked up the nearest blunt object, which happened to be Alice’s kaleidoscope, and pitched it at his head. The idiot knew it was coming, but pretended that he didn’t. It bounced harmlessly off his hard head and onto the bed. He yelped in fake agony. Alice was stunned speechless for a few seconds and then collapsed into hysterical giggles that went on forever. Daniel soon joined her, and in the end I was laughing with them. The man was incorrigible, but he made everyone around him smile, that is until he made them angry enough to want to kill him.

When our laughter finally dwindled away, Daniel looked through some more of her drawings. “Aaaah, I know what this picture is. A dog.”

“That’s Puppy,” she said proudly. “He’s my dog.”

“I also have a dog. Her name is Molly and she’s a Golden Retriever. Maybe I can bring her round and let you play with her one evening. She loves everybody.”

Alice’s mouth dropped open and a small sigh slid out of her tiny body. “Could you really??”

At that moment, I felt horrible for thinking badly about him. He’d just made Alice the happiest child in the world with his suggestion. I had no idea if it would be allowed, but if it wasn’t, I was going to make it happen… _somehow_ …even if I had to break down and use my persuasive gift on every staff member in the hospital.

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Daniel answered, glancing up at me. He was thinking the same thing I was thinking. _Nothing_ would prevent us from giving Alice an enjoyable few hours with Molly.

Daniel returned his attention to her drawings. He stopped and considered one of them for a long while: the one of Alice and her family, the one with the black dots representing her tears. His expression grew serious when he finally looked up from the paper. “Is this your family?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “I miss them.”

“I’m sure that you do,” he said quietly. “And these—“ he asked, pointing at the black dots. “—what are these?”

“Tears,” she answered, and I noticed that her eyes were getting shiny. I wanted very much for Daniel to just drop it and move on to the next picture, but he didn’t.

“You’re crying because you’re different, and your family doesn’t understand,” he said. “Morgan told me that’s why you’re here.”

Alice nodded and the tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks and slid down her face. Daniel laid the drawing on the bed beside her and used his thumb to tenderly wipe away her tears. I moved closer, just an inch or two, for safety’s sake. He completely ignored me. His full attention was on Alice.

“You mustn’t cry, Little One. It’s all right to be different,” he said softly as he brushed at her cheeks. Alice sniffed, but said nothing. “Did you know that God made thousands upon thousands of ordinary people who were all alike inside? And then he made some who were different, who were special, like you.” He smiled, winked and touched her nose playfully with his finger.

“I don’t like being different,” she whispered.

“I understand,” he said. “Sometimes it’s very hard. People say bad things to you.  Maybe they hit you, or worse, they ignore you like you aren’t even there. I know it’s hard.”

“Are you different, too?” she asked innocently.

Mine and Daniel’s eyes met. I sent him a silent warning to please not tell her anything that she was too immature to understand. “Yes, I am,” he answered.

“How?” she asked, her attention temporarily diverted from her own sadness.

“That’s something we’ll save for when you’re older,” he answered, and continued before she could interrupt with more questions. “For now, just know that I’ve been sad just like you, so I understand. But, there’s no shame in being different, no reason to cry, Alice, because people like us are very strong.” Daniel laid his palm on her narrow little chest and over her heart. “In here. We have to be because of the bad things we have to go through sometimes. Morgan tells me that you’re already a very brave and strong little girl. He’s very proud of you for that, and so am I.”

I listened to Daniel’s heartfelt advice, which applied to him as much as it did to Alice. The man had truly suffered for being different, for loving men instead of women. How could I have stayed angry with him for so long? Why had I allowed the bad things in our lives to drive us away from each other?

Very unexpectedly, Alice launched herself at Daniel, just like she had with Rhodes, and threw her arms around his neck. A soft growl of warning slipped out of me, too low for Alice to hear. Daniel glanced up and warned me away with a hard golden stare and a sharp slash of dismissal with his hand. If I dared attack him while he was holding Alice, he’d stop me using whatever means necessary. I knew that just from the look in his eyes. Alice had _two_ protectors now, it seemed. I backed away a couple of steps, but still stood at the ready. He finally pried her arms from around his neck and had the good sense to lighten the mood in the room before both of us ended up at each other’s throats.

“Do you like games?” he asked Alice.

“I love games!” she exclaimed excitedly, her sadness of before forgotten.

“Good! Have you ever played a game called Rock-Paper-Scissors?”

She shook her head. “Is it hard?”

“Absolutely not, and just because you’re little doesn’t mean you can’t win against a big guy like me. That’s because it’s a game of chance. The size of your brain or your body doesn’t matter with this game.”

I stood to the side and quietly observed as Daniel taught her the rules to the simple game that was played only with one’s two hands. I realized now that there was no chance he’d ever hurt her. She had him wrapped around her little finger already. His heart was hers, as was mine.

It saddened me, as I watched them play and laugh together, that Daniel would never be a father himself. He was perfect for the role: patient, loving, but strict when he needed to be. He’d never once lost his temper with Matthew, which had surprised me, considering that his hot temper had always simmered just below the surface. Daniel despised whittling—a carry-over from his childhood (and his father’s assertion that it was a more appropriate hobby for a boy than drawing)—but despite that, he’d spent several hours whittling Matthew a cart and figures of people and animals to go with it. He’d told Matthew stories, wrestled with him and taught him how to hunt animals for food. Fate was a cruel mistress in denying him a family of his own.

When Alice’s eyes began to droop despite the fun she was having, I called a reluctant halt to the visit. It was long past her bedtime.

“Will you come back to visit me?” she asked him, as I tucked her underneath the blanket.

“Of course I will, and I’m going to bring you a box of soft pastels when I do. They’re like crayons, only better. You can smear them with your finger and blend the colors together,” he explained. “You can’t do that with crayons. And, you need some better paper, too. So, I’ll definitely be back.”

She smiled up at us, and after two kisses goodnight, she relaxed back into her pillow. Daniel and I slipped from the room after she fell asleep.

“She’s a sweet child,” he said softly, as soon as we’d stepped out into the hall. “But she’s got more on her plate than a Little One should have.”

“Definitely,” I agreed. “You see now why I can’t leave her? If the doctors had their way, they’d experiment on her for the rest of her life. She’s not a person to them, she’s a medical anomaly to be studied and tested.”

“You can never let Aro find out about her either—her gift or how much she means to you,” Daniel warned.

“I know.” His warning was not news to me.

Aro had a penchant for hurting or killing every person that I loved, if he knew about them. It was ironic that Daniel’s preference for men, which had brought him so much grief in his life, was most likely the only thing that had saved his life up to this point. Aro obviously had no idea how much Daniel meant to me, or he wouldn’t have escaped so easily during the raid in Romania. I had been the primary target of that raid, thankfully, not Daniel.

I walked him to the front doors of the hospital where we said our goodbyes, with the promise to discuss Alice in more depth tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

_**Early Tuesday morning, January 1, 1907** _

 

“Where’s Molly?” Sadly, the big ball of golden fur had been absent from my porch and my house when I’d returned home from the hospital. I’d been looking forward all night to petting her.

“Out there somewhere,” he said, flinging his hand in the general direction of the front door. “Drumming up something to eat and having adventures, I imagine. She’ll be back, don’t worry.”

“What have you been doing all night?” I asked, taking a look around and seeing nothing changed since I’d left the previous evening.

Daniel got up from the Chesterfield and placed a book back on the shelf. “Reading, drawing.” He shrugged. “The usual. How’s Alice?”

“Sleeping peacefully when I left.”

“Good,” he said, nodding.

“I think she really enjoyed your visit,” I said, shrugging off my coat and draping across the kitchen chair.

“I enjoyed it as well,” he answered.

And that was it, the end of our conversation. A long, uncomfortable silence ensued. The awkward moment had finally arrived when we both realized we had nothing before us but hours of daylight. We were stuck inside my small house with each other until dark, as the sun had decided to make a bright, mid-winter appearance on the most inconvenient day of my life.

I wracked my brain for some topic of conversation that would take both our minds off the elephant in the room—the one remaining issue that we’d both unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) avoided the day before, but nothing came readily to mind. There was no subject on earth fascinating enough to push aside the image of that small, annoying man with hair so ashy blonde that it looked gray, that Romanian vampire who now stood invisibly between us just as surely as if he were standing there in the flesh.

Vladimir.

Daniel looked at the floor, the bookshelves, the door, anywhere but at me. I was hesitant to meet his eyes, as well. Guilt did that to a person. It made it hard to look someone straight in the eye when you knew you were in the wrong. We were both suffering from an enormous load of the damned stuff, but for very different reasons.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said abruptly, breaking the awkward silence. He reluctantly looked at me, but his gaze kept sliding away. “I regret that it happened, and if I could go back and change things, I would. But, unfortunately, I can’t.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I have nothing to apologize for??” He snorted in disbelief. “I betrayed you. I took another man to my bed. It doesn’t get any worse than that.”

Unbidden, the memories of that day flooded my mind: the shock of discovering Daniel and Vladimir together; my livid threat to Vladimir that if he didn’t leave the room I’d rip his miserable arse to shreds; the fury behind the blow that had sent Daniel crashing back against the stone bedroom wall and landing in a wounded heap; the vicious fight with Vladimir and Stefan as they’d attempted to keep me from killing Daniel while he lay stunned on the floor. The worst memory of them all was the memory of seeing the hatred in Daniel’s eyes when he’d looked up at me. That one moment had been the defining one, the crystal clear moment when I’d realized that I had to leave Romania and Europe altogether. I’d left the very next evening.

“I drove you to it, so the blame rests squarely on my shoulders,” I said quietly. “At the time, I failed to realize that, but two centuries later, things tend to become a little clearer and the truth is more easily seen.”

Daniel’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. I approached him of my own free will. You didn’t make me take Vladimir to my bed.”

“Yes, I did,” I admitted softly. “I turned my back on you, from the moment of Matthew’s death to the day I walked out of Vladimir’s house. It was a cruel thing for me to do to you, to desert you when you were grieving just as deeply as me. But at the time, I didn’t possess the will to deal with anything but my own misery. It was ridiculous for me to have been angry, or even shocked for that matter, at discovering that you’d sought out the attentions of someone else. Your lover had left you on your own, to sink or swim without any aid or comfort. What were you supposed to do? Languish alone forever?? I no longer harbor any anger toward you. As far as I’m concerned, that’s in the past, and I’m deeply sorry that my actions were responsible for it all.”

I’d thrown Daniel completely off-balance with my confession. He stared back at me, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you’re admitting all of this, but it’s true. You deserted me and it hurt. Losing Matthew, and blaming myself for his death, was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me—worse than my parents’ death, worse than what happened with Samuel or Katherine. All I wanted was a kind word from you, but I never got it. All I got for years was your back and your cold shoulder.”

I nodded in agreement. What he’d said was all true. There was nothing more I could add to his description of my shameful behavior, and no defense for it either.

“And since we’re being completely honest with each other—since you told me truthfully about Alice—there’s something I need to tell _you._ After you left, I stayed in Romania with Vladimir for a long time.”

Now it was my turn to be thrown off-balance. His revelation took me completely by surprise. “How long?” I asked, as if that mattered. What really mattered was the one thing I was afraid to ask.

He shrugged. “A decade.”

Then I asked the question that really mattered, even though I feared his answer. “Do you love him?”

Daniel laughed softly and shook his head. “God, no. V was, and still is, hopelessly in love with his mate, even though she’s dead. I was in love with you. We both knew it was nothing serious and that it would eventually end.”

“Did he hurt you?” I asked quietly, watching his eyes for any deception.

He frowned at me in confusion. “No, he didn’t hurt me. We parted amicably.”

I sighed in relief, glad that there were no deep feelings between them, and also relieved that I didn’t have to hunt Vladimir down and kill his scrawny Romanian arse for hurting Daniel. The man was a snake-in-the-grass, as far as I was concerned. I’d never completely trusted him, even though we’d worked side-by-side for over a year killing the newborns who were too savage to control.

Daniel closed the distance between us, until our bodies were mere inches apart. “Everything is well between us?” he asked, speaking the familiar phrase we’d always said to each other after an argument.

“Everything is well,” I answered softly.

 _Mostly._ The only sadness left in my life at the moment was Rhodes’ absence. She was gone, but would never be forgotten. Her place in my heart was just temporarily empty, as far as I was concerned. I was confident that she would keep her word and return to me one day. But in the meantime…

I caught Daniel completely off-guard with a deep and lingering kiss meant to reassure him that everything was indeed well. When we parted, he was smiling mischievously.

“I did a little exploring while you were at work. You have a very lovely and… _strong_ …bed in the room behind that closed door. Why don’t we put it to good use?”

I hesitated. I really didn’t care if I ever went into that room again, especially now, with her gone. It felt strange to even consider taking Daniel in there, like I was being unfaithful to her. “Rhodes and I…” I started to explain my discomfort, but then stopped, realizing I was venturing into a subject that I did not wish to discuss in detail with Daniel. But he knew me too well.

“Rhodes is gone, and I know you’re hurting,” he said softly, and the understanding I heard in his voice was real and heartfelt. “But life goes on. She wouldn’t want you to stop living just because she left.”

“It feels…strange,” I said hesitantly. “Almost like I’m cheating.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Rhodes and I have talked about this, at length. I’ll tell you about our visit later, but for now, just know that she’s aware that we were lovers. She sees nothing wrong with it. She isn’t jealous of our relationship at all. I’m not a threat to her like Alice is. We’re not in competition with each other for your affections. Don’t you think she knew what would most likely happen between us when she slid that letter underneath my door? You’re not being unfaithful; you’re just living your life and trying to find some happiness along the way. That’s all either of us want for you.”

His revelation made absolutely no sense to me. This was not how the real world worked. I’d been around long enough to know that. People were inherently selfish, especially when it came to their own happiness and their intimate relationships with others. I’d never known vampires to be any different in that regard. Rhodes and Daniel were not behaving normally. It was confusing and frustrating as hell.

“I don’t understand what it is about me that inspires such devotion from the two of you.”

“I know you don’t, so quit trying to figure it out. You think too much. Just accept it and go on from there.”

I sighed in defeat. I’d discovered through the centuries that nearly always (this time included), arguing with Daniel was as enlightening and productive as having a conversation with a tree stump, so I decided to just take his advice. I gestured to the closed bedroom door. “After you.”

He smiled and extended his hand to me. I took it, and together we opened the door to the bedroom.

  


	45. Control

**~ ALICE ~**

_**Mid afternoon – Tuesday, January 1, 1907** _ ****

“I’m gone a few weeks and my ward goes to Hell in a hand basket!” 

Mrs. Filkins was back. Her fat, sausage hands were on her hips and she was looking at me with an ugly, mean face. I hid the pictures I’d been drawing of Morgan and Daniel underneath my blanket.

“Ruby is the most incompetent nurse I’ve ever seen! I can’t believe she allowed things to get out of hand like this!”

I didn’t know what Mrs. Filkins meant, so I kept my head down and my mouth closed. I watched her out of the corner of my eye.

“These—“ She kicked my roller skates hard against the wall with her foot. “—are going. They’re a menace! A nurse could break a leg tripping over those ridiculous things. And this??!” She picked up my ping pong paddle and ball from the cabinet. “Hitting a little white ball back and forth? That’s for spoiled, rich women who have nothing better to do with their time. God forbid they take care of their husband and children like they were born to do!”

She scooped up my roller skates and my ping pong set and dumped them into the trash can by my bed.

“Very nice.” Now she was holding up my sailor outfit that Nurse Ruby had gotten me. “But you won’t need it.” She laughed and it wasn’t a nice laugh. “It’s not like you’re ever going to be invited anywhere where you’ll need to dress up.”

“That’s not true! I wore a dress to my birthday party at Mary Grace’s house!” I shouldn’t have said it, because now Mrs. Filkins was really mad.

“You left this hospital to go to a birthday party? Who authorized that??!”

I didn’t know what she meant so I didn’t answer.

“Don’t bother answering. I already know. Mr. Grant is behind it. He’s behind _all_ of this, and I am not standing for his interference with my patients, not in _my_ ward.” 

She folded up my sailor dress and laid it across her arm. Then she yanked up the bloomers that Lissa had bought me. Her face got really scary. I wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but I was too afraid to move. “Where did you get these?” she asked softly. I wished that she would scream at me like before. Screaming wasn’t as scary as when she talked quiet.

“Lissa got them for me.”

“Who is Lissa?” Her voice got softer and her eyes got really squeenchy and mean.

“Morgan’s lady friend. She wears them.”

Her ugly lips curled up. She wadded my bloomers up in a ball and threw them in the trash can. “Let me tell you something about Morgan’s lady friend. She’s a whore. Any woman who would go out in public in those things is nothing but a cheap, dirty whore. Is that what you want to be when you grow up Alice? A whore??”

I didn’t know what that word meant, but it didn’t sound nice.

“Do you??” she yelled.

I shook my head and tried not to cry. Mrs. Filkins hated it when I cried.

“Men like whores, Alice, but they never marry them or have children with them. Remember that. I’ll bet in no time he’ll get rid of her. They always do when they’re done with them.”

I wasn’t going to tell her that Lissa was gone. That might make her happy and I didn’t want Mrs. Filkins to be happy about anything. I wished she’d fallen over my skates and broken her other leg. Then her mean, ugly eyes saw my brush and mirror set lying at the foot of my bed.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” She picked up the mirror and looked at the back of it. “This is exquisite, much too nice for the likes of you. Delusional patients can’t have anything like this in their rooms. You might break it and use the glass to hurt yourself. I’m afraid it has to go, as well.”

That was Morgan’s Christmas gift, with his favorite flower on the back! “No! Give it to me! It’s mine! Morgan bought it for me!” I screamed, and tried to get it out of her hand. She just laughed and held it out of my reach. She took the brush, too.

I wanted to hurt Mrs. Filkins. Mommy had always told me to be nice to everyone, even if they were mean to me. She said that was what Jesus wanted people to do. But, Mommy didn’t know Mrs. Filkins. I didn’t think she’d like her if she did, and neither would Jesus. I wanted to hurt her really bad, and I knew how to do it.

“A little girl who was in your house stole your ring from your jewelry box,” I said in my bravest voice.

Mrs. Filkins turned around and stared at me. Her eyes were dark and scary. “What did you say?”

“A little girl with curly gold hair. She was in your bedroom. She stole your ring and hid it in her bottom drawer in her room, underneath her stockings.” I’d seen it happen a long time ago, watched the little girl who was the same size as me, sneak into Mrs. Filkins’ bedroom. I’d known it was her room because there had been a picture of Mrs. Filkins and a man on the table by the jewelry box. The little girl had giggled and hid the ring underneath her apron until she’d gotten back to her own room.

“You lying little bitch!” She slapped me hard across the cheek. It stung really bad and made me cry even though I tried not to. “You aren’t insane, you’re evil! You speak lies just like the demons in the Bible! There’s no cure for you in this hospital, Mary Alice Brandon. What you need is to be thrashed within an inch of your life. You need Satan beat out of you!!”

She slapped me again. I couldn’t help it. I cried even more. It hurt. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as best as I could. She took everything with her: the skates, ping pong set, the bloomers in the trash can, and my sailor dress over her arm. She had my brush and mirror set in her hand, too. As she walked out the door with all of my gifts, I slid off the bed and took off after her.

* * *

**~ MORGAN ~**

“If you utter one more of your ridiculous blasphemous curses, I swear I’m going to hurt you.”

“Can’t help it, Michael. When something feels that damned good, I have to say a curse. Nothing else will do.” Daniel turned his head and grinned. We were stretched out on the bed, side-by-side, on top of the blankets, relaxing after spending a very satisfying day making up for lost time. “I seem to recall a few colorful oaths coming out _your_ mouth the past hours, so just get off your high horse and admit that that was better than fucking the Pope.”

“Why anyone would want to commit such an act is beyond me,” I said, chuckling despite my half-hearted attempt at being annoyed with him. “Have you seen the Pope lately??”

“Nope, and I don’t want to,” Daniel said simply. “Wrinkly arses and shriveled cocks aren’t my cup of tea, as you well know.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leered at me suggestively.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. The man, who claimed to be a devout believer, could utter more blasphemous statements than a self-confessed heretic. He seemed to think that God had a sense of humor and would know he was only joking. I hoped for his sake that he was right.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened to Celine? I haven’t heard from her in months.”

I turned on my side so I could see his face and gauge the depth of his concern. I had no idea how important Celine had been to him, thus I had no idea how much resultant danger my arse was in for killing her. At this point, there was no use in dodging the question. “I killed her.”

He stared back at me, blank-faced. “Why?”

“She’d targeted Alice. Out of jealousy, she was going to kill her.”

A smile spread slowly across Daniel’s face. His eyes flicked upwards at the ceiling. “Thank you, Dear Heavenly Father,” he intoned. At my confused frown, he elaborated. “I sent her to you hoping you’d get rid of her for me. I wasn’t exactly expecting you to kill her, but I’m not complaining that you did. I was in over my head with that woman.”

“Daniel Hart was ‘in over his head’ with a mere female??” I sputtered in disbelief. I’d never seen Daniel at a disadvantage when faced with an exceptionally pushy woman. He’d always had a vast repertoire of vulgarisms to throw at them to get them to leave him alone.

“She was determined to get me between her legs,” he muttered. “She was a persistent bitch, I’ll say that for her.”

“Did she succeed in that endeavor?” I asked, grinning at the thought of Daniel dodging her many seductions. Celine had indeed been a persistent and persuasive woman when she’d set her mind to attaining what she wanted.

An arrogant smirk took over his face. “She did not. I’ll have you know that my cock is still pristine white and virginal when it comes to cunts,” he said proudly.

“Virginal,” I repeated, shaking my head and snickering. Daniel describing himself as virginal was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever said.

“Now, when it comes to nice, tight arses like yours—“ He slid his fingers down my hip and then clutched a handful of my arse in his hand. “—my cock is nothing but a filthy whore.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his idiotic, yet appropriate, description of himself. The man had a way with words that had always left me flabbergasted, irritated, and laughing, all at the same time, which was part of the reason he was so dear to me. “You’re incorrigible,” I said, shaking my head.

He smiled fondly. “You haven’t said that to me in a very long time. It’s nice to hear it again.”

He kissed me tenderly and rolled back over onto his back. He closed his eyes and went completely still. I smiled and closed mine as well, relaxing and luxuriating in the warmth of his body lying alongside mine.

“Molly’s back,” he said abruptly a few minutes later. I listened, along with him, and heard the soft plop of a large body settling onto my porch, as well as a long, drawn-out breath of contentment. “Want to let her in for awhile?”

I nodded, eager to finally make her acquaintance.

I watched Daniel’s naked arse prance out of the room until he disappeared. (He knew I was watching him. He always seemed to know.) Within seconds, a blur of yellow fur bounded into the bedroom and launched itself up and onto the bed in one graceful leap. Before I could react, I was inundated with wet licks, claws scraping across my exposed skin, and a long furry tail sweeping back and forth happily. I yelped loudly and laughed while I tried to avoid being licked to death. After a while, I gave up the fight. I burrowed my hands into her fur and scratched behind her ears while she kissed my face with her wet tongue, without any interference from me.

“Molly!”

One stern command from Daniel and Molly left off with her exuberant greeting and collapsed beside me. Her tail thumped against the bed; her eyes danced with happiness. I wiped the saliva from my face as Daniel smiled down at me from above, this strange smile that reminded me of Mary Grace when she spoke of matters of the heart.

“I love that,” Daniel said, still smiling.

“Love what?” I asked, frowning.

“Seeing you happy,” he answered, settling down beside Molly on the bed. “And I love hearing you laugh. It’s a beautiful sound to me.”

My frown deepened. “I _do_ laugh, Daniel. In fact, I laughed a lot when Rhodes was here, and Alice makes me laugh quite often. You act like I’m an ogre who never cracks a smile.”

“You have to admit that for a very long time, the laughs were few and far between with us,” he said quietly.

“Yes, they were,” I agreed, sighing. “But that’s going to change.”

“Yes, it is,” he said with a slanted, mischievous grin.

“I hate to change the subject so abruptly, but I’m due at the hospital in an hour. Do you want to go in with me tonight and visit with Alice?”

“Of course,” he answered. “I just happen to have an extra set of pastels in my bags. We can spend the evening drawing and coloring together.”

I smiled as the image of the two of them, heads bent over sheaves of paper and coloring happily together, formed in my mind. Matthew had been much too squirmy and inquisitive to take an interest in art. Daniel had tried to teach him to draw, but all attempts had failed. It hadn’t been a matter of talent, but one of patience. Matthew’s mind had been far more advanced than his body, and once he’d learned something, his attention had quickly turned elsewhere. So, it was nice that Daniel would finally have a young charge to patiently teach his craft to.

“Hopefully, you’ll get to meet Mary Grace, the nurse I told you about. She and her husband, Wills, are counted among the few friends that I have here.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

I had a feeling that Mary Grace and Daniel would get on well together. In some ways, they were very much alike. Mary Grace had a mischievous sense of humor when she allowed it to show, and Daniel, despite his fiery temper and foul mouth, had an uncanny way of endearing people to him that I had never understood. It promised to be an interesting evening.

 

* * *

 

It was never good when Mary Grace met me well before I reached Alice’s room. I stiffened when I saw her bulky form making its way down the hallway toward us. I sensed Daniel stiffen as well, alert for whatever had caused the change in my demeanor. It felt good to have him at my side once again.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as soon as Mary Grace reached us.

“Where are your manners, Morgan? Introduce me to this handsome gentleman hovering behind you.” She smiled and peered around my shoulder. Things must not have been as bad as I’d first thought if she had time to make pleasant conversation in the hallway.

“Mary Grace, this is my friend, Daniel Hart. Daniel, this is Mary Grace Stanfield, a dear friend to both me and Alice.”

Daniel stepped out from behind me and took her hand, raising it to his lips and delivering a gentle kiss to her knuckles. I fought to keep my mouth closed and not show my shock. When had the brute found time to learn such gentile manners? When Katherine had offered him her hand he’d smirked and told her he never kissed hands, only cocks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary Grace,” he said in a smooth voice that I found hard to believe had come out of the man’s throat. “I’ve heard so many good things about you from Morgan.” I glanced at him, wondering what had happened to the rough-around-the-edges man I’d known for the past two hundred and sixty-six years. Somewhere along the line, he’d gained a layer of culture that was strangely appealing.

“Oh, my goodness, but you have stunning eyes.” Mary Grace leaned closer and peered up at his face. “And I’m very pleased to meet _you_ , as well.”

Daniel murmured his thank you’s and took his place slightly behind me once again. We commenced walking towards Alice’s room.

“Is everything alright with Alice?” I asked.

Mary Grace sighed. “Mrs. Filkins is back, a day early.”

I hissed softly and took off down the hall at breakneck speed, and heard Daniel trotting along behind me. It would take Mary Grace a little longer to catch up. I emerged into Alice’s room prepared for anything. Immediately, the smell of opium assaulted my senses.

“What’s that odor?” Daniel asked.

“Opium. They’ve sedated her for some reason,” I said, my gaze darting over everything in the room.

Alice was asleep on her left side, facing us, and seemed to be resting peacefully, but something was off with the room. Another sweep told part of the story. Things were missing: her roller skates, which she usually kept underneath her bed; the ping pong set which had found a permanent home on the cabinet; the sailor dress and bloomers from the once neatly folded pile of clothes; the brush and mirror set I’d given her, which nearly always lay at the foot of her bed.

“Morgan!” An out-of-breath Mary Grace finally entered the room to explain. “It’s not as bad as it could have been. Apparently, Mrs. Filkins removed some things from her room, saying that they weren’t approved or something of that nature, and Alice, well, our little Alice attacked her. Mrs. Filkins has the scratches on her legs and arms to prove it. They sedated her because she wouldn’t calm down. She’s all right. Really she is. She’s been sleeping since I arrived for work.”

Removed some things from her room because they weren’t approved?? Mrs. Filkins was up to her usual tricks: stealing from patients.

“Now that you’re here, I must get back to my side of the hospital.” As an afterthought, she added, just before leaving the room, “Oh, and by the way, this Friday is my last day. My doctor and Wills have conspired behind my back and are forcing me into resting for the duration of this pregnancy. Maybe you and Daniel can come for dinner some Sunday afternoon. I may not be in any shape to cook, but Sis is very adept in the kitchen.”

I offered my sympathies to her about her forced convalescence, while Daniel expressed interest in visiting for dinner. I glanced his way, wondering what was going through his mind when he’d accepted her invitation.

After she left the room, I quickly explained to Daniel Mrs. Filkins’ habit of stealing from patients, which was most likely the true reason why Alice’s things had been removed. He scowled but said nothing.

I wandered over to Alice’s bed, just to make absolutely sure that she was all right. I felt Daniel’s presence just behind me as I tenderly pushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead. Her breathing was deep and even, her heartbeat strong. She looked angelic when she slept—so sweet and no inkling of the childish stubbornness that could completely overtake her tiny body at a moment’s notice. I raised the blanket and checked her arms, shoulders and neck for any sign of abuse at Mrs. Filkin’s hand. Nothing. I gently probed her scalp for knots. Nothing.

“What are you doing?” Daniel asked.

“Checking to make sure she’s all right. Mrs. Filkins has struck her in the past. The last time she hit her, I broke her little finger into several pieces for her efforts. I doubt it’s of much use to her now, which doesn’t concern me in the least.”

Whatever Daniel thought about my actions he kept it to himself.

I took her tiny chin between my fingers and nudged her head toward the wall so I could see the other side of her face. What greeted me was flaming red skin just starting to turn a very light purple around the edges. Mrs. Filkins had hit her after all. I heard Daniel’s hiss of outrage behind me.

“I’m going to kill that bitch,” I snarled softly, but viciously. I released Alice’s chin and backed away from her bed. “I warned her. I’m going to rip her to pieces for this.”

I saw alarm register on Daniel’s face. He knew me better than anyone. He knew that I never issued meaningless threats. “Michael, calm yourself. You’re not going to kill her. I won’t let you,” he said stubbornly.

“You see what she did! Are you telling me I should just let this pass??!”

“Do you have something you wish to say to me, Mister Grant?”

I whirled around at the sound of Mrs. Filkin’s voice and saw her standing arrogantly in the doorway. I took a step in her direction, but Daniel wrapped his hand around my arm and squeezed with iron-crushing force. “Let me handle this,” he said softly, too softly for her to hear.

I glared at him. “Let. Go. Of. Me,” I said, just as softly.

He ignored me, released my arm and turned to face Mrs. Filkins. “I’m Daniel Hart, a friend of Morgan’s.”

I watched in astonishment as he crossed the room and extended his hand, smiling at the arrogant bitch like he wanted to be friends. Taken off guard, Mrs. Filkins hesitated but eventually took his hand and shook it briefly.

“Elizabeth Filkins,” she stated, reluctantly introducing herself.

“Perhaps we could speak privately,” Daniel suggested. He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Could you step outside Morgan? And shut the door behind you, please?”

Short of ripping his arrogant arse to pieces in front of her, I had no choice but to leave the room. I shot him a murderous glare as I passed but the bastard didn’t even flinch. I stepped out into the hallway and fought the urge to slam the door behind me with enough force to rip it from its hinges. I leaned against the wall and listened. 

* * *

 

**~ DANIEL ~**

“But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea,” I said, quoting the book of Matthew.

Her chin rose slightly in defiance. “Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die.”

“Owe no man anything, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law.” And for good measure, I added, “Thou shall not steal.”

Her eyes went flat and hard. She was angry, which pleased me greatly. I’d have to ask forgiveness for that later.

“You’re a religious man?” she asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“How refreshing. I fear that your friend Morgan is a heretic. I hope that you’re ministering to him as is required of all God-fearing Christians,” she said in a haughty, holier-than-thou voice.

“Oh, you can be sure I minister to him every chance that I get,” I answered, successfully holding back a smirk. Mrs. Filkins would most likely die of an apoplexy if she knew the details and methods of my “ministering”.

“So, is throwing Bible verses in my face the reason you wished to speak to me?” she snapped.

“Of course not,” I answered smoothly. “You and I both know that we could quote Bible verses at each other all day long and nothing would get accomplished. The Bible is a very subjective piece of literature and can easily be perverted to suit one’s own personal, distorted view of religion.”

Her eyes narrowed at my implication. “I don’t have all day, Mr. Hart. Get to your point and quickly.”

“Very well.” I moved closer, invading her private space and making her extremely uncomfortable while doing so. I was counting on her being too much of a proud bitch to take a step back. She was, and she didn’t. “I’m a very well-known and respected artist in Atlanta. I’ve painted the portraits of some very prominent men and their families, in that fair city.”

She gave me a silent look that questioned why she should give a damn about my profession or my reputation. I answered it for her.

“A person’s reputation is much more fragile than a bone,” I said softly. I paused for several moments so the implication of my words could sink into her brain. “I care for Alice deeply, as does Morgan. But, unlike Morgan, I never resort to violence as a way to seek redress for my grievances. I will never harm you physically, never break the bones of your little finger or perhaps snap your arm in half. That’s not my way. I’ll just pulverize your good reputation until you’re nothing but a pariah in this swampy-arsed excuse for a town.”

With great pleasure I watched her eyes widen in genuine, heartfelt fear.

“I’m very good friends with the owner of the Atlanta Georgian. Perhaps you’ve heard of that newspaper? It’s quite well-known and widely read. Mr. John Graves is the editor. He has a very lovely daughter and was immensely pleased with the portrait I recently painted of her. He wouldn’t hesitate to do a favor for me, to journey to Biloxi, Mississippi and conduct an in-depth investigation of the conditions inside this hospital. I could even provide him with the name of a certain staff member who routinely steals from patients and physically abuses them. By the time he’s done with you, those who sit beside you in church will cross the isle to get away from you. Your gaggle of women friends who share finger sandwiches and tea with you on Sunday afternoons will no longer welcome you into their homes. With his help, I’ll expose you for the thief that you are. Your family and friends will see a woman who abuses children, and other helpless people, who suffer from illnesses beyond their control. Perhaps the administrators of this hospital will fire you for inadvertently exposing their ugly underbelly to the world.”

“You’re a vile man,” she snarled, her lips curling up into an ugly sneer.

“Yes, I am,” I agreed. “I am very aware of my failings, but the difference between you and I is that _I_ try to control my baser instincts. You, however, have stumbled upon the perfect profession in the perfect setting that allows you to let yours run free and unfettered. You mistakenly think that no one who matters to you will ever discover your true nature. But, rest assured, if you ever take anything of Alice’s again, or abuse her in ANY manner, that will change. I’ll see to it personally.”

She backed away from me and let me know the depth of her hatred for me, as measured by her enraged glare. I simply smiled in response.

“I’ll expect Alice’s things to reappear in this room before your shift is over. And, so that her belongings won’t pose a safety hazard to the nursing staff, I will purchase a cabinet for her to store them in and keep them out of your way. Have a pleasant evening, Mrs. Filkins.”

She whirled and violently threw open the door. I listened with satisfaction to the angry sound of her heels clattering away at the tiles as she stalked off down the hallway. Seconds later, Michael reentered Alice’s room and quietly shut the door behind him.

* * *

**~ MORGAN ~**

“I owe you an apology,” I said contritely. “I wanted to throttle you for interfering, but in hindsight, I think perhaps your solution was the better one.”

He smiled smugly. “Holier-than-thou Christians who walk around swollen up like a toad with their moral superiority always have a weakness. Their Achilles Heel is their precious reputation, their supposed goodness, their public piety, their elite ‘chosen’ status among the unwashed heretics. It’s all about control: you find a person’s weakness and then you ruthlessly exploit it, all without a single drop of blood spilled.”

“That’s very effective and certainly more appropriate for a non-violent man such as yourself.” I couldn’t help but suffer a feeling of great loss. I truly wanted to kill her, but if Daniel’s method of intimidation worked, my pleasure was to be forever postponed. “Damn, I guess this means I don’t get to rip her to pieces. I was looking forward to that,” I said, snickering.

I fully expected him to laugh at my joke, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes met mine and what I saw in them brought me up short. They were filled with an emotion I had rarely seen in him: fear.

“You’re wrong about that. You are going to have to kill her, but you must wait until the perfect time, when it can be safely done without any suspicion falling upon you. Hopefully my threat of exposing her will keep her worst tendencies at bay until you can do the deed.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. My non-violent lover who had protected my soul throughout the centuries with the ferocity of a mother protecting her newborn babe was now telling me to commit a cold-blooded murder, and even warning me to wait until the opportune time. “What are you saying??” I asked in astonishment.

“There’s something you don’t know,” he continued in explanation. “She has a gift. Her hum is loud in my head; the shock of her touch is very strong. Considering the type of person that she is, considering the darkness of her heart, I think that we can safely assume that her gift is not one of goodness. She’s a very real and dangerous threat to Alice. She needs to be killed as soon as it can be safely done.”

I’d seen Daniel use his gift enough times to know that he was accurate, at least so far as predicting the presence of a power as well as the strength of it. I also trusted his instincts, especially in this instance. He apparently felt that Mrs. Filkins was evil beyond all imaginings and that the nature of that evil was so strong that it manifested itself to him as a potential vampire power. If he said she needed to be killed, then I believed him.

“You must promise to control the demon inside of you and wait until you can do it without getting caught, no matter how long it takes. Promise me.”

I met his eyes and gave him my silent promise.

At that moment, Mrs. Filkins days became officially numbered.

 


	46. Crazy Carl Lehman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you miss the date at the beginning of the chapter, I wanted to bring that to your attention. This chapter skips ahead to 1910. When I first started writing this story, I wrote it as a kind of "serial". I updated it every week for almost 3 years. I went pretty much day-to-day. I finally came to a point where I realized if I didn't start skipping some time, I'd be 90 years old and still writing chapters! lol 
> 
> To keep the chapter from becoming bogged down in trying to explain all of the details that have been skipped, here’s a brief summary of what’s happened since we left the story in Jan. 1907: 
> 
> Alice is now a very mature, intelligent and precocious 9-year-old. Mary Grace is the proud mother of two twin boys, Mark and Matthew, both healthy and strong. She no longer works at the hospital, never returning to her position after the birth of her twins. She is currently pregnant again, only this time, as Alice informed her quite happily, she’s having a little girl—and only one this time! Mary Grace visits Alice faithfully once a week, sometimes bringing her boys with her. Morgan is quite fond of both of her children, although Matthew holds a very special place in his heart, of course. Even though he looks nothing like his own child, Morgan develops a strong bond with the little boy.
> 
> Daniel is still a constant presence in Morgan’s life, commuting back and forth between Biloxi and Atlanta as his obligations there warrant. Morgan continues to educate Alice academically, while Daniel nurtures her creative abilities. Daniel has been on a constant crusade the past three years to get Morgan to build onto his house and give him sole control over design and décor. So far, he’s only succeeded in getting Morgan to buy a select few pieces of new furniture. lol
> 
> Rhodes is still absent from their lives and hasn’t contacted either one of them since she left Biloxi.
> 
> Mrs. Filkins avoids both Michael and Daniel whenever possible. Daniel’s threats have been mostly successful in keeping her worst behavior with Alice at bay. 
> 
> Basically, the past three years have been quite normal and uneventful—well, as normal as can be expected considering Alice lives in a barbaric insane asylum, has a “grandmotherly” nurse who is more imbalanced than her patients (Mrs. Filkins) and has two vampire protectors who wouldn’t hesitate to kill to protect her (even though they seem to want to kill each other more than anyone else! lol) 
> 
> And finally, Carl Lehman was an actual patient in an insane asylum in the early 1900s. I plucked his name off the internet from a list of hospital patients. God rest his soul. (His affliction, however, is completely from my imagination.)

**~ ALICE ~**

_**March 1910** _

****

“I’m bored.”

Teddy looked up at me with his big button eyes, but he didn’t say anything back. Funny, Teddy used to talk to me a lot when I was little. Now he just lays there and stares at me. He’s no fun anymore, except at night when I snuggle up to him underneath the blankets. He’s nice then—all soft and fuzzy and warm. He helps me sleep. But during the day, he’s not much help at all. I sighed and pulled out the drawings I’d been working on. I needed to have them finished before Daniel got here tonight, but I just didn’t feel like working on them right now.

“I’m reaaaaly bored,” I announced loudly to my empty room.

I looked around for something to do. My dollhouse was pushed into the corner. I hadn’t played with it in a long time. It wasn’t as much fun as it used to be. I didn’t have enough play-people to make it fun. I needed some more play-babies and two play-men to be Daniel and Morgan. Mary Grace had tried to find more pieces for it, but she said she couldn’t find them at the store anymore.

 _Why don’t we sneak around and see if we can catch a look at Crazy Carl?_ “That’s a great idea, Teddy!”

I giggled, because it wasn’t really Teddy’s idea. It was mine. Ever since Crazy Carl Lehman had been brought into our ward, everyone had been talking about him. The nurses whispered about him, thinking I couldn’t hear them, but I could. I’d heard _everything_ about him. I’d even seen him once when he’d first arrived. They’d had chains wrapped around his ankles and he’d made clinking noises as he’d walked past my door. I’d peeked my head out and had only seen his back. He was a big man—as big as my Daddy had been. He was funny looking, too, at least from behind. His hands had been tied behind his back, and his bright red hair stuck straight up on top of his head like a fountain. I remembered thinking somebody should comb it down because he looked like a rooster.

I knew where Crazy Carl’s room was. Everybody did, because even if you couldn’t see him, you could still hear him. Sometimes he went completely nuts, as the nurses would say quietly to each other, and would scream for hours. I could barely hear him from my room, but sometimes it was hard to sleep when he went nuts. The nurses seemed afraid of him. Morgan had warned me more than once to stay away from his room because he was a very sick man.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t do it, and that Morgan was going to be really mad at me, I grabbed a book and a brush and I snuck out of my room and down the hall, around the corner to the left and down another hall, a right turn and then down another hall. His room lay at the end of a really long, dark hallway. I scrunched up into a dark corner nearby and watched. I knew a nurse or somebody would have to eventually check on him. They had to feed him, didn’t they? I’d wait until somebody opened the door and then I’d sneak in to see him. Morgan always said I could sneak through a keyhole if I wanted to, because I was so tiny and impish.

After a long time, I began to wonder if I should go back to my room. I was more bored than ever, squatting in a dark corner and waiting. Then I had a vision, and I knew I wasn’t going to be bored for much longer. A nurse, pushing a cart, arrived from the other direction. I squished myself into a tiny ball and watched. She unlocked the door with a key, and opened it really slowly. She disappeared into his room with the cart. That was the moment I darted out and leaned my book up against the door frame, near the hinges. It was a thin book and it fit perfectly. When the nurse tried to lock the door again, it wouldn’t shut completely. She yanked on it a lot, tried to push it shut, but it wouldn’t close. She made some aggravated noises and then rushed off down the hall. As soon as she turned the corner, I was in! I grabbed the book out of the hinges and shut the door behind me. I was in Crazy Carl’s room.

I stood against the wall and waited until I heard the nurse and someone else talking outside the door.

“It wouldn’t shut, I promise you,” the nurse insisted.

Someone yanked on the door. “Well, it’s shut now,” they said.

I heard a key turn. I smiled. I was locked in the room with Crazy Carl Lehman.

“Hello,” I said.

Crazy Carl was sitting on the edge of his bed staring at me. His eyes were the prettiest blue. He didn’t say hello back.

“That coat looks uncomfortable.” He had on the strangest jacket. It was an ugly, dirty white with metal buckles and straps all over it. “Can you move your arms?”

“No,” he answered.

He didn’t sound mean or crazy. His voice was soft and nice. It didn’t sound anything like it did when he went nuts and screamed for hours. I walked over to him and peeked around behind him. The sleeves of his jacket were wrapped around his body and buckled tight behind his back. “Does it hurt?”

He nodded.

“Want me to get you out of this ugly thing?”

He nodded.

I crawled on the bed and sat down behind him. It took me awhile but I finally got all of the buckles and straps loose and freed his arms. Then I had to help him get them out of the sleeves. Finally, the ugly white coat dropped in the floor and I left it there. “Why are you in here?” I asked curiously, which was something I’d never discovered, but had been dying to know.

He shrugged and didn’t answer. He was looking at his hands like they were something he’d never seen before.

“I have visions. I can see things before they happen,” I said proudly.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked up from his hands and stared at me with his pretty sky-blue eyes.

“Can I brush your hair?”

He nodded. I brushed down his red rooster comb and smoothed it back in with the rest of his hair. Then I brushed all of his hair until it looked nice again. He didn’t have very much, but what he had was soft and a pretty red.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked, his eyes watching every move I made.

“You won’t hurt me,” I said, and he wouldn’t.

He nodded. “I don’t kill children. Only doctors and nurses.”

 _Doctors and nurses??_   “Have you met Mrs. Filkins?” I asked.

“I’ll kill her if she comes close enough,” he said, and he sounded like he was talking about doing something ordinary, like taking a walk or reading a book.

“She’s mean, but you probably shouldn’t kill her.”

He shrugged. “She needs killing.”

I decided we’d talked enough about Mrs. Filkins, so I changed the subject. “Have you met Morgan Grant? He’s an orderly. He’s very nice. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I don’t kill orderlies. Only wives and mailmen.”

“Oh…well…that’s nice that you don’t kill orderlies.” I tried to think of something to talk about that wouldn’t bring up the subject of killing. “My other friend is Daniel. He’s an artist and he’s teaching me to be one, too. He’s going to show me how to do watercolors soon.”

“I don’t kill artists. Only brothers and mothers.”

I sighed. “Want me to read you a story? I’m a good reader. Morgan says I read like an adult instead of a nine-year-old little girl.”

He nodded. “I can’t read.”

“Do you like rabbits? This story is about a little rabbit named Peter.”

He nodded. “I used to have rabbits when I was a boy.”

“Oh you did? That’s nice. I think rabbits are cute and cuddly, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I don’t kill rabbits. Only cats and dogs.”

I couldn’t help it. I thought of Puppy and Molly and shivered just a little when he said that. The poor man. Morgan was right. He was very sick. Someone who talked about killing so much had to be sick. But he was probably lonely, too. I’d sure been lonely when I’d first gotten put in this place.

“Once upon a time, there were four little Rabbits, and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail, and Peter. They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank…”

“Oh, I kill mothers,” he said, bobbing his head up and down. “Yes, I do.”

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

“Why do I need a bathroom?” I asked, annoyed once again at Daniel’s constant pestering.

“If you ever want to sell your house, no one is going to give you a plug nickel for the place!” he argued hotly. “Especially if it doesn’t even have indoor plumbing! Why do you insist on living in a tumbled-down shack??”

“My house is not a shack. It’s not that different from the one _you_ grew up in,” I countered. “There was nothing wrong with your house then, and there’s nothing wrong with mine now.”

“This is the 20th century, not the 17th. You have ten thousand books but you don’t have a bathroom. Someone has their priorities all twisted up like a pine knot,” he muttered.

“I like to read,” I said, defending for the umpteenth time my desire to surround myself with quality literature. It seemed like we had this same argument every week. I was growing tired of it, and of _him._

We continued to argue about the sad state of my house all the way to the hospital. It continued as we made our way down the hallway to Alice’s room. I swear, if we hadn’t been among witnesses, I would have kicked his arse halfway to Georgia and saved him the driving time in that contraption he called an automobile.

Then Mrs. Filkins came barreling around the corner and nearly bowled us both over. She skidded to a stop and glared at me. “The little hellion is missing again! How many times does that make us this month?! Two? No, three!! Find her, Mister Grant, put her in her room and make her stay there or else she’s going in confinement!” She glared at us again and stalked off down the hall in the opposite direction.

We’d been through this too many times to get upset about it. We’d always been able to find her pretty quickly. Once she’d been in another ward talking to the nurses. Another time, she’d been in the office talking to the man who admitted the patients. Just a week ago, she’d found a door leading to the cellar where they kept the ice for the kitchen and had gone exploring.

Daniel sighed. “Our little Ali-Boo is getting to be a handful, isn’t she?”

I smiled at hearing Daniel’s fond nickname for Alice. It hadn’t taken him long after he’d first met her to begin calling her Alice-Blue, which was Alice Roosevelt’s favorite color, and then that had eventually evolved into just Ali-Blue. One day when Alice had been particularly precocious and annoying, she’d decided she wanted to be called Ali- _Boo,_ because it sounded “cuter”. Daniel had just laughed and graciously accepted the new version of his nickname for her, and had called her Ali-Boo from that moment onward.

I sighed along with him. “Yes, she is. We need to come up with something to occupy her mind, or else she’s going to be spending more time in confinement than out. Let’s go find where the 'little hellion' is hiding this time.”

Following her scent wasn’t much help because it was everywhere. Alice had difficulty staying in her room, and short of putting her in isolation or strapping her down to her bed, there was no way to make her stay put. Her smell was in every hallway, stairwell and even in some of the rooms.

“Scent is no good. We’ll have to find her by her heartbeat,” Daniel said, voicing my thoughts before I could. Since she was the only child in the hospital it wouldn’t be hard to pinpoint her location by the sound of her tiny, thrumming heart.

We briskly, but silently, walked up and down the maze of hallways, listening for that one familiar heartbeat among the hundreds that thrummed throughout the hospital.

“Got it!” I exclaimed triumphantly, and then trotted off in that direction. Daniel followed close behind. When we turned a corner, and the sound got louder, I stopped and looked around in horror at where we had ended up. “Holy fuck!”

Daniel shot an astonished look my way. I very rarely used such vulgar profanity without just cause, but this was a just cause if there ever was one.

“She’s in Carl Lehman’s room!” I took off down the long hallway at a dead run. Luckily, Daniel, who’d always been faster than me, beat me there. He grabbed hold of my shoulders and brought me to an abrupt stop.

“Calm yourself!” he exclaimed.

We spoke rapidly and too softly for anyone to hear our conversation but us. 

“You don’t understand! The man’s a brutal killer and she’s in there with him! We have to get her out of there before he hurts her!!”

Daniel shook me roughly. “Listen! Will you just stop and listen?! She’s reading to him!”

 

_“I am very sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening, in consequence of having eaten too much in Mr. McGregor’s garden. His mother put him to bed and made some chamomile tea…”_

_“I kill mothers,” we heard Carl say through the door._

 

Daniel’s hands squeezed my shoulders even harder. “You rip the door off its hinges and it might set the man off! Calm down!” He was right. As usual, Daniel was the one with the level head.

 

_“I know you do, but Peter loves his mother. She’s kind to him and it makes her sad that her little boy is sick, even though he did something wrong,” Alice responded calmly._

 

Alice wasn’t afraid. She was speaking to Carl as a mother would speak to a little child. I didn’t relax my guard, by any means, but I clamped down on the panic and listened curiously to the rest of their conversation.

 

_“She’s a good mother, then. Mine wasn’t good,” Carl said softly. “So, I killed her.”_

_“I’m sorry you had a bad mother,” Alice answered._

 

Her voice was quiet, but I heard no trace of fear in it, not even after his revelation that he’d killed his own mother, which had never been proven by anyone in authority. No bodies had ever been found to support his continued claims of responsibility for various and sundry murders. But when you’d committed as many murders as I had, you tended to recognize that capability in others. Carl had that same evil light in his eyes that I’d had for centuries. So, just because no bodies had been found didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer.

 

_“My mother brought me here and left me. Sometimes I think she was a bad mother for doing that, but Morgan keeps telling me that she did it because she loved me, and that she thought she was doing what was best for me. I get mad at her sometimes, because I think it was wrong of her and my father to leave me here.”_

_“I’ll kill her for you, if you want me to. You’ll have to help me get out of here first, though.”_

 

We heard a moment of silence from Alice, but surprisingly, her heart rate never faltered to indicate fear or alarm. Just as calmly as you please, she answered politely:

 

_“I don’t think I want her killed right now, but if I change my mind, I’ll certainly let you know. Thank you for offering, Carl.”_

 

Daniel shook his head in disbelief and awe. “What a unique little soul she is.”

“Yes she certainly is that,” I acknowledged wryly. “But it’s time to get her out of there, and the damned door is locked. We’re going to have to tear the thing from its hinges after all.”

Daniel grinned and produced his assortment of lock picks from his pocket. “Cover me.”

I stood guard—like anyone was going to venture down this hallway to begin with, since everyone studiously avoided it—and waited impatiently while Daniel worked his magic with his various slivers of metal. I heard the lock click at the same time Daniel uttered a foul oath of success.

“Stay out here,” I ordered softly. “You’re too big and might appear as a threat to him.”

Daniel nodded, but hung close behind me at the ready. I slowly pushed the door open. I noticed several alarming things at once, just as Alice’s huge green eyes met mine with no surprise at all at being caught: Carl was out of his strait jacket, Alice was sitting beside him on the bed—too close to suit me—and worst of all, he was holding her hand!

“Alice, please come over here by me,” I said quietly, careful to keep my voice non-threatening, and control the panic that had suddenly overtaken me.

“Carl, this is Morgan, the orderly I told you about,” Alice said sweetly. “And remember, you don’t kill orderlies.”

Carl simply nodded and stared silently up at me.

“Alice, come here, please,” I repeated.

More than anything, I wanted to leap across the room and yank her up by her feet and shake her really hard. The little imp could try the patience of a rotting corpse with her stubbornness.

“Carl won’t hurt me. I saw it,” she assured me confidently. “If I thought he would hurt me, I wouldn’t have come in here to begin with. He’s not going to hurt you either, or Daniel. He doesn’t kill artists or orderlies or children. He only kills doctors and nurses, and brothers and mailmen, and mothers and….”

“Alice!” I hissed angrily, interrupting her.

She sighed, slid off the bed, and walked contritely over to my side. “I hope to see you again. It was fun,” she said to Carl.

“I liked it, too,” he said simply.

I pushed Alice behind me and backed us both out of his room, keeping my eyes on him the entire time. Only when the door was shut and relocked with Daniel’s picks did I finally relax.

Alice stood there in the hall between us, her eyes bouncing back and forth from my face to Daniel’s. “You’re mad.”

I growled and started to say something, but Daniel scooped her up from the floor and into his arms. “We’re not mad at you, but you sure gave us a little scare.”

 _A little scare??!_ I turned my back and stalked away from both of them.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you _ever_ do anything like that again!” I shouted at Alice. We were back in her room. She was sitting on the side of her bed, looking at the floor. Daniel was hovering nearby, glowering at me silently.

She looked up and bravely faced me. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me! I had a vision and I knew it would be all right!”

“You have no business talking to ANY of the patients in this hos—“

“Alice, could you excuse us for a few minutes?” Daniel grabbed my arm and guided me toward the door.

“Don’t fight…please?” she said pitifully, tears pooling in her eyes.

Daniel laughed and waved away her comment. “You know us, Ali-Boo. We fight all the time, but we never mean it. It’ll be all right. I promise.” He smiled, winked at her and pulled me out of the room.

Once we were out in the hall, I yanked my arm out of his grasp. "Let go of me! You treat me like I’m a simple-minded child!”

“Well, you _act_ like one!” he snapped back. “In here.” He ordered me into the nearest supply room and slammed the door behind us.

“So, are you going to turn me over your knee and spank my arse, or perhaps stand me in the corner??” I asked, sneering at him with disdain.

“If you’d just calm down and think about this, you’d see that we’ve just stumbled upon the perfect thing to keep Alice occupied. But you’re going to have to quit looking at her as your singer, and try to see her as a damned human being who has feelings and needs that go beyond what makes YOU happy or makes YOU feel secure! Your protectiveness is stifling her!"

“So, I’m supposed to let her wander around all over this hospital and talk to whomever she wants and hope and pray they don’t hurt her?? That’s not being considerate of her 'feelings and needs', that’s just being idiotic, which _you_ have down to an art form!”

He sighed and looked away. I knew him well enough to know his temper was simmering just below the surface, but he was controlling it, much better than I was, truth be told.

“Alice isn’t like you. She can’t sit and read books all day long and never do anything else. She’s very social. Surely you’ve noticed that? She’s lonely as hell. Why can’t you see that? She needs to interact with people, and since these patients are the only people around, she has to interact with _them_. Did you not listen to what went on in that room?? She read to him. He liked it. He was calm. She wasn’t afraid of him. She had no reason to be because she’d seen beforehand that he wasn’t going to hurt her. This was good for her. I think she felt like she was helping him, or somehow making things better for him, but in actuality it was helping _her.”_

His reasoning made sense. I’d been floundering for years trying to figure out how to deal with Alice’s social personality which, at times, left me figuratively exhausted. She was even more energetic than Rhodes, if such a thing were possible. I often wondered how one tiny human being could find so much to talk about. “What are you suggesting?”

He sighed with relief. “I think you should take her on your rounds with you. While you’re doing whatever it is that you do, let her talk to the patients, or read them a book, or brush their hair—whatever she wants to do. She’ll know ahead of time if it’s safe, and you’ll be right there with her just to make sure. Watch her and see how she does; see what affect she has on the patients. I think you’ll be surprised at the results, both for them _and_ for Alice.”

I considered his idea. The fact that he might be right wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

“I know this is hard for you,” he said softly and with understanding. “I know you love her, and you only have good intentions by being so protective, but you have to back off a little and let her explore the world around her. You can’t keep her safe in her room forever.”

He was right. I knew that I was over-protective, but just the thought of any harm coming to her…

“If any of them hurt her, I’ll kill them,” I stated flatly, and I meant it.

“I know, but between you and her gift, I don’t see that happening. Try it for a little while and see if she likes it.”

I nodded. “All right. I’ll talk to her doctor about it.”

He grinned mischievously. “So, that spanking thing…that actually sounds interesting. Perhaps we should try that tomorrow.”

My mouth dropped open at how easily Daniel’s mind could shift from a serious topic to sex in a matter of seconds. “You’re sick,” I said, shaking my head.

He snickered. “Hey, if it isn’t rough, it isn’t fun. Beside, how do you know whether you like it or not? You’ve never tried it.”

“There’s an empty bed around here somewhere. Say one more word and I’m putting you in it. We’ll get you the help you so desperately need.”

He had the good sense to keep his mouth shut, but that didn’t stop the cocky bastard from grinning his fool head off.

 

* * *

 

Daniel’s idea worked like a charm. Dr. Solomon readily agreed to let Alice accompany me on my rounds. She’d lost her appeal in the past three years, as he’d become obsessed with a new patient who insisted that she had twelve different people living inside of her. She even had separate names for all of them. I was thankful, because his attention had shifted completely away from Alice. No horrendous treatments had taken place since the Ipecac in 1906.

She accompanied me on my rounds. I taught her how to change bed linens with the patient still in bed. She plumped pillows and tucked blankets up under their chins. While I took care of restocking their supplies, she read to them, or rubbed their feet, or scratched itches they couldn’t reach. Some just stared back at her silently, which didn’t bother her at all. She chatted away happily as if these strange one-sided conversations were perfectly normal. The surprising thing was that the patients liked it—even the ones who never interacted with her. Their heart rates slowed while she was in the room. If they’d been restless prior to her arrival, they quieted for the duration of her visit.

Alice was the only human in the hospital who wasn’t afraid of Carl Lehman. She visited him often, and his tortured hours of screaming began to dwindle and eventually stopped. And all this she did with the sheer blunt force of her exuberant personality, because the simple truth was that no one ignored Alice when she was in a room, not even the insane.

The nurses were astonished at how well the patients related to her. They clucked amongst themselves that Alice had the soul of a nurse—a natural calling to the profession. I wasn’t sure about that, but there was one thing I was most positive about: Alice had finally found her niche. She was happy, which made _me_ happy. And when I was happy, Daniel was ecstatic.

Everything was well…

 

 


	47. In a Better Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't follow a strict outline for my stories, I have discovered that THIS one has evolved into something I never envisioned when I started it: two separate stories, one is Alice’s, and the other is Michael/Daniel/Rhodes’. I have to be very careful and not shift the focus too far away from Alice. It’s her story, after all. So, because of that need to stay focused on my initial plot line, many events that concern only M & D will not be written into this story. 
> 
> (Also, Alice is still 9 years old, very soon to be 10 in November. And…this is a tough chapter to read…as it was to write.)

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**October 1910** _

****

“The windows are installed, the ceiling’s done, so the next thing on the list is the walls. I’m just waiting for the wood paneling to arrive—hopefully next week—so I can get started.”

Daniel and I had left the house a little early and were walking leisurely, under a cloudy sky, to the hospital. I’d heard nothing but renovation talk from him since we’d shut the front door behind us. “I’m just waiting for the hammering to stop,” I muttered.

Daniel shook his head and laughed under his breath. “You’re such a grouch.”

“I am _not_ a grouch! I’m simply saying that I’ll be happy when the hammering stops. It makes it impossible to read.”

“When the study is finished, you’ll have nothing _but_ quiet, and you can read to your heart’s content. Patience, Michael. We’re almost there. Just a few weeks longer.”

Ever since I’d visited him in Atlanta and had seen his study, which he’d designed and built himself, I’d secretly wanted one just like it. I’d made the mistake of saying that it was very nice and cozy—a manly sort of room. He’d taken that as a sign from God that I should have a study, and he should be the one to build it. He’d pestered me nonstop until I’d finally given in and agreed to let him add a room onto my house.

We’d spent a month discussing (arguing) the basic design and layout of the room, another month discussing (more arguing) the cost of the supplies and who would pay for what, and then a couple of months choosing (even more arguing) furniture and flooring and drapes and tiles and molding and wainscoting. I hadn’t really wanted to be involved in all of the details, but he’d insisted, so in my opinion, he’d had no right to complain when I’d objected to something. But eventually, we’d agreed on everything, and construction had begun. My study was nothing but a wooden skeleton inside of four walls at this point, but at least it was finally under roof and protected from the elements.

“What are you and Alice up to this evening?”

“We’re working on watercolors. It’s a difficult medium, but she loves the challenge. She’s the perfect student. She never complains and she works her arse off on the simple little projects that I assign to her. She’s incredible.”

I resisted the urge to grumble again, because all it would do would be to make me look petty. Still, it annoyed me to no end that Daniel was never subjected to Alice’s complaints. He never had to hear ‘Watercolors are silly!’ and ‘I don’t care about the dumb old watercolors!’ like I had to every time Alice had to do any math.

“I just wish she was as enthusiastic about her other subjects, especially mathematics,” I said, sighing instead of grumbling, thinking a sigh would get me a little sympathy from him. I should have known better.

“What do you expect? It’s math! Who in their right mind likes math?” he asked, chuckling.

 _“I_ like math!” I retorted, offended at his tone, like there was something wrong with a person who appreciated the beauty and precision of numbers.

“Of course you do.” He rolled his eyes and snickered, which made my fingers twitch with the uncontrollable desire to smack him in the side of the head.

“Proportions are my favorite,” I snapped. “As in, the number of snide remarks from you is in direct proportion to the number of swives you will _not_ get this week!”

He laughed uproariously. “Your proportion will disintegrate the moment I rub my cock up against your arse. Face it. You can’t resist me.”

I sneered silently at him. The arrogant bastard was right. Unfortunately, we’d arrived at the hospital, so he was spared my equally vulgar response, which dealt with the size ratios of specific body parts. But, that didn’t stop him from reaching behind me and squeezing a handful of my arse before we walked through the double doors. I hissed at him and slapped his hand away before anyone caught a glimpse of his inappropriate behavior.

A cacophony of sound—moans, incessant talking, shouting, and the occasional scream—greeted us as we started down the hall to Alice’s ward. “The place is loud tonight,” Daniel observed quietly as we walked, his eyes shifting warily from one closed door to the next.

“There’s a full moon behind those clouds. It’s the worst time of the month for an asylum,” I explained. “The calmer patients get restless, and the violent ones need extra restraints or sedation. It’s going to be a busy night, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t see how you stand the noise,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s deafening to me.”

“You get used to it. You have to learn to block out the worst of it,” I answered. “After awhile, the only sounds you pay any attention to are those of the patients who are in real trouble. Their screams are so heart-wrenching and piercing that it’s impossible to ignore them.”

 _“MOMMY!!! MOMMY!!! MOMMMMMMY!!!”_ Alice’s shrill, panicked screams broke through the normal background noise of the hospital.

“Alice!”

I bounded down the hallways with Daniel close on my heels. Her strident screams continued unabated as we raced toward her. We burst into her room, beating the nurses there by only a few moments. Alice was sitting on her bed, perched up on her knees, her fists clutching at her hair, pulling at it and screaming. Tears streamed down her face as her desperate cries continued without pause.

“Alice!” I grabbed her and pulled her close, frantically calling her name and trying to get her attention. It wasn’t working. She was out of control.

“Chloral hydrate! _NOW!”_

I heard Mrs. Filkins yelling orders to her nurses, while Daniel argued vehemently with her to wait, not to sedate her, but to give me a chance to calm her down first. During the back-and-forth shouting and chaos, Alice still screamed.

“Alice, look at me!!” I pulled her away from my body and held her small face between my hands. Short of sedating her, using my lesser gift was our only hope. “Look at me!!”

After shouting my command at her several times, her terrified green eyes finally found my face. I saw recognition in her eyes…finally.

“MORGAN!!”

She tried to wrap herself around me, but I held her firmly at a distance. “Look at me, Alice,” I commanded, my voice shaking with barely contained panic. Her eyes slid to mine. I focused intently on her dark and dilated pupils. “Were you napping and then had a nightmare?”

She blinked as I planted the idea in her mind. “Y—es,” she said, snubbing so hard that her body jerked on that one word.

“It’s over,” I murmured softly, keeping my eyes locked with hers and stroking her cheek with my thumb. “You’re going to be all right. It’s going to be all right, Alice. It’s all right.”

I repeated the mantra until I heard the pounding of her heart slow to an acceptable level. I pulled her into my arms. We rocked together until she was completely calm.

“I can’t get over how good he is at this,” one of the nurses behind me said.

“I know. He does this all the time,” another one said.

I heard a general consensus among all in the room that I had a gift for healing, that I should become a doctor, or at the very least, a nurse. Mrs. Filkins’ huff of disgust didn’t escape my hearing either. Eventually, the nurses filtered out of the room and returned to their duties when they realized that Alice had calmed down. She refused to let go of me. Her arms were wrapped tight around my waist, my shirt balled up in both of her fists. I held her, rocked her, while Daniel tenderly stroked her hair and crooned to her.

“She’s asleep,” Daniel whispered, but I’d already known that. Her grip on my shirt had slackened many minutes ago, but I was loathe to let her out of my arms. “You need to get to work. Lay her down and let her sleep. I’ll keep watch over her.”

He was right. I couldn’t stay here all night and hold her, although nothing would have pleased me more. I eased her down onto her pillow and stretched her body out into a comfortable position. Daniel covered her with a light blanket.

“Call for me as soon as she wakes up,” I instructed him.

“I will,” he assured me. “Did she have a vision, you think?”

I nodded. “I’m sure of it, but I didn’t want the nurses to know. I wanted them to think she’d just had a bad dream. I planted the idea in her mind about the nightmare, but it won’t last long. When she wakes, she’ll remember everything.”

Daniel shook his head in sad resignation. He and I both knew that whatever she’d seen, it had been bad. Very bad.

* * *

 

**~ DANIEL ~**

_How can one tiny little human have such a stranglehold on my heart?_ I already knew the answer. I loved children. It was that simple.

While still human, I’d resigned myself to the fact that I’d never have a family. I’d convinced myself that it didn’t matter. I’d been born a lover of men through no fault of my own. Once I’d accepted that fact, I’d concentrated all of my energy on living the life I’d been given and making the most of it, ignoring what could never be.

Then Matthew had been born, and all of my previous notions about my life had been shattered. That small being, who’d had Michael’s features woven into his face in that masterful way that only God could accomplish, had completely taken possession of my heart. I’d worshipped him, and he’d not even been mine. I could only imagine the love Michael had felt for him. I’d wondered many times what it had felt like to look into the eyes of someone you’d help create, someone who was as much a part of you as your own skin. I’d never know that feeling, but I’d come as close as anyone could get with Matthew.

And then Alice had unexpectedly come into my life. I’d fallen in love with her innocence, her vulnerability, her strength, from the very first moment I’d met her. Life hadn’t been kind to her, and I knew what that felt like. She was Michael’s singer, and although I would never be as close to her as he was, I couldn’t deny the bond I had with her. We were both different, so vastly different from the norm that society simply could not tolerate our existence. They had to push us away from themselves, pretend we didn’t exist, or try to obliterate us from the face of the earth. Why did humans always feel the need to persecute what they couldn’t understand?

I agreed with Michael in that this precious little girl needed our protection. She’d been abandoned by those whose responsibility it had been to watch over her—left at the mercy of strangers who cared nothing for her. I couldn’t fathom how parents could turn their backs on their own flesh and blood.

She stirred in her sleep. She was awakening. Her eyelids fluttered open, searching for something familiar.

“I’m here, Ali-Boo.”

I didn’t get the smile I’d hoped for. She was wide-eyed and scared.

“Are you all right?” I asked softly.

“No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears filled up her eyes and threatened to spill over. “Where’s Morgan?”

“He’s probably helping with another patient right now. He’ll be here as soon as he can, and then you can tell him all about it.” I was sure he’d been listening for her voice as he’d worked. No doubt he already knew she was awake and was impatient to get to her.

No sooner had the thought formed in my mind than he appeared in her doorway, his expression carefully controlled. He was trying to hide his worry from Alice, but I knew him too well for him to hide it from _me._ He was tense, his muscles unearthly still, so still that he resembled the vampire he was and not the human he was pretending to be. He was terrified of what he was about to hear. So was I.

In seconds, the human façade slipped back into place and he was sitting beside her on the bed, holding her small hand in his. I pulled back and stood beside her bed to watch and listen. I wondered sometimes if she was ever curious about the coldness of our skin, or the strangeness of our movements when we sometimes let the mask of normalcy slip, but she never mentioned it. That was one of the most endearing qualities of children: they accepted you without question. They believed whatever you told them. They trusted adults implicitly, sometimes when they shouldn’t.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

“I’m not going to tell you not to cry. Sometimes we just need to,” I said.

Her eyes were barely containing her tears. My words triggered the release of a torrent of grief from inside of her small body. The tears spilled down her face, and sobs wracked her tiny frame.

“I saw Mommy dead,” she gasped in between crying.

I wasn’t as shocked as I probably should have been, and I noticed that Daniel didn’t flinch at her announcement either. I think we’d both been expecting it to be something like this. She fell against my chest, wrapped her arms around me, and cried more. I didn’t push her to explain. I held her while she purged herself of the worst of her sadness. I knew from experience that she would never expunge it all—an echo of her grief would live on forever in her heart, and at times it would ache terribly and remind her it was still there.

“What did you see?” I asked when she’d finally quieted, except for the occasional snub.

She sat back and took a deep breath, drawing on that incredible wealth of courage that filled her soul to overflowing. She described to us a scene that a young child should never have to witness, a scene that would leave an indelible black mark of grief upon her for the rest of her life.

She’d watched her mother painstakingly choose a dress and matching shoes from her closet and carefully dress as if she were going on an outing. She’d fixed her hair and applied her cosmetics in front of the mirror in her bedroom. Alice described her slow walk down a flight of stairs into a dimly lit room that could only be some sort of cellar. She saw a chair, a piece of rope, and finally, death swinging silently back and forth, suspended from cast iron pipes in the ceiling.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Daniel violently shot up from his chair. He cursed viciously and pounded his fist helplessly against the wall, leaving a sunken scar on the yellow concrete. His anguish mirrored mine.

Rage boiled up inside of me at the pain Alice’s mother had inflicted upon her own child. I wanted to kill her all over again, and this time I would make her suffer much, much longer. I wanted someone to pay for the damage that had been done to this innocent child who was now staring up at me with wide-eyed disbelief, as if I could ever say anything that would make this better.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” she asked simply.

There was no other way to answer that question except with the truth. “Yes. I’m so sorry, Alice.”

Her lip trembled, and a glossy sheen once again washed over her piercing green eyes. “Why would she do that? Was it because of me?”

Daniel whipped around to face us, and he was as angry as I was. We locked eyes and both knew, without speaking it aloud, that we couldn’t allow Alice to carry the burden of her mother’s death on her small shoulders for the rest of her life. Not if we could prevent it.

I clamped down on my temper and pushed my anger to the background where it belonged. This wasn’t about me and my desire to rip someone to pieces, as if that would change what had happened. This wasn’t about my singer, and my obsessive need to protect her from anything unpleasant. This was about a little girl who had had entirely too much heartache in her short life, and who certainly didn’t deserve any more.

“There’s no way we can know what was in your mother’s heart,” I said gently.

“Any number of things could have happened to cause her to do this,” Daniel interjected, crossing the room and taking his place beside her on the bed.

“Maybe she was sad about leaving me here.”

Daniel and I exchanged quick glances. I had no doubt in my mind that Alice was the main reason for her mother’s suicide. I suppose that I could have been wrong, but I suspected that Daniel agreed. I felt sure that the guilt over abandoning her own child in an insane asylum had been too much for her to endure.

“It’s possible,” Daniel said cautiously. “But life as a grown up is very complicated. So many sad things can happen in our lives. After awhile, the hurts build up until there’s just too many of them. Some people aren’t strong enough to handle that many hurts.”

“But what about Cynthia? Who is going to be her mommy now? Who is going to take care of Puppy?”

I sighed. That was a question without an easy answer. People who took their own lives never seemed to give much thought to those left behind.

“I’m sure your father will take good care of her and Puppy,” Daniel quickly said, but it was obvious that Alice was doubtful. After all, he hadn’t taken very good care of _her_ , had he?

A fresh round of tears coursed down her face.

“It’s all right to cry,” I said, when she swiped at her face and tried to halt the flow. “When someone dies that we love, we’re supposed to cry. That’s normal. But just remember that your tears are for _you_. Don’t cry for your mother, because she’s in a better place now, and she’s happy.”

I saw Daniel’s piercing and confused stare in my peripheral vision. There was no point in continuing to try and figure out what had driven Alice’s mother to this desperate act. We would never truly know. My main focus from this point forward was to ease Alice’s conscience and give her solace as best as I could.

“She’s in Heaven with God?” Alice asked hopefully.

I smiled and stroked her hair, touched by her innocence and childish faith. “Yes, she is. And whatever it was that made her sad enough to do this is gone. Heaven is a joyful place. There’s no crying there. So, don’t cry for _her,_ only for _you._ She’s at peace with God now.”

I slid my gaze in Daniel’s direction. His golden eyes were filled with curiosity and a wary skepticism, but he smoothly continued in my same vein. “And, she’s waiting for you,” Daniel said. At Alice’s questioning look, he continued. “Our loved ones who have died before us are all waiting patiently for us to join them in Heaven: my mother and father, Morgan’s parents, as well as his brothers and sisters.”

We exchanged silent glances. _Asha and Katherine and Matthew…_

“They’re all waiting,” he continued.

“And one day you’ll see your mother again. I’ll see mine and Daniel will see his. So, this sadness is only temporary. I promise,” I finished quietly.

Alice slid into my awaiting arms and hugged me tightly. Her tears seemed to have finally dried up, but I still murmured soft assurances in her ear. She eventually wriggled from my embrace and held her arms out to Daniel. He smiled and gathered her up, her tiny form cocooned safely in his strong arms.

“Just how long are you going to ignore your duties, Mr. Grant?” Mrs. Filkins hateful voice shattered the tender moment. She was looming just inside the doorway and glaring at both of us. “She just had a nightmare. She’ll live.”

My lip curled reflexively; a hiss of hatred hung in my throat, fighting to get out. Daniel interceded before my temper could overtake my rational thought. “I’ll sit with her. You go back to work. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Ali-Boo? We’ll work on our watercolors.”

Alice attempted a smile, and I was proud of her for trying, even though I knew first-hand how hard it was to pretend to be happy when your heart felt shattered beyond repair. I nodded, which seemed to appease Mrs. Filkins. She turned on her heel and stalked off.

“If you need me, just call for me,” I instructed Alice and Daniel.

Reluctantly, I left the room. Even though I trusted Daniel implicitly to take care of Alice and calm her fears, it went against my grain to leave her care to anyone but myself. I went about my duties with one ear constantly attuned to Alice’s side of the hospital. But, true to his word, Daniel took care of her. He comforted her and gave her temporary respite from her grief by diverting her attention.

In retrospect, protecting Alice from the cruelty of those around her, specifically Mrs. Filkins and Dr. Solomon, was proving much easier than protecting her from her own gift.

 

* * *

 

We left Alice tucked into her bed and warm beneath her blankets with her Teddy Bear crushed against her chest. We both knew that tonight’s events would never be forgotten, nor should they be. Daniel had taught me a wise lesson back in England so very long ago. Grief that is never given voice is like a hungry beast that eats away at your soul until there’s nothing good left inside of you. Only by talking, crying, and sharing your hurt with others who loved you, could you begin to heal. We were determined that Alice would not suffer in silence like I had for so many centuries.

The walk home from the hospital was a somber one, even though the cloudless sky and the shimmering stars promised a clear autumn day ahead.

“What you told Alice about Heaven and her mother was beautiful, Michael.”

I snorted softly at Daniel’s naiveté. “It was all nonsense. I don’t believe a word of it, but it was what she wanted to hear. It gave her comfort and that’s all that mattered to me.”

He plucked at my shirt and brought me to a halt. “You’re lying. You believe it, don’t you? You believe there’s a God, a Heaven and an afterlife.”

I jerked my arm from his grasp. “No, I don’t believe it! It’s a ridiculous fantasy based on absolutely nothing that can be proven! It’s wishful thinking by people who can’t accept the finality of death! We live, we die and then it’s over!”

I stalked away from him, but he was again at my side, plucking at my shirt, asking me to just stop and listen to him. “I don’t believe you.” He stared into my eyes, his golden gaze penetrating straight into my soul. “I heard the conviction in your voice when you spoke of Heaven and the joy there. I saw that glimmer of hope in your face when I talked about our loved ones waiting for us on the other side. You want to believe. Admit it. You want so very much for this fantasy, as you call it, to be true.”

I shook my head at Daniel’s persistence. He was determined to convince me of the existence of a deity and all the trappings that went with believing in one. We’d had this same argument so many times in the past. He saw things in me that didn’t exist. I had no convictions, or hope, when it came to the idea of me actually being reunited with Asha and Matthew in some elusive world that existed somewhere in the clouds.

“Shake your head all you want. Deny it all you want, Michael. That doesn’t change the truth. There is a God, a Heaven, and Alice will see her mother again.”

“I hope for her sake you’re right,” I said wryly.

“I _am_ right,” Daniel said, his characteristic arrogance rearing its ugly head. “And you’re wrong.”

I walked on, keeping my gaze straight ahead and focused on the rising sun in the distance. “I’m _not_ wrong!” I insisted hotly. “We just disagree. Can’t we leave it at that?”

Daniel sighed in defeat. This argument ended the same way every single time. We always ended up agreeing to disagree, until next time.

“The truth is the truth. It exists whether you choose to acknowledge it or not,” he said, pushing stubbornly ahead with his argument, even though we’d already reached the usual end of our disagreement. The man simply would not give up when it came to saving my soul.

“I’ll make you a promise then,” I said, chuckling with renewed good humor, safe in the knowledge that I was right and he was wrong. “When I die, if I don’t wake up in Heaven with Asha, Matthew and the rest of my family all around me, I’m going to come back to earth and kick your cocky know-it-all religious arse all over this planet. I’m going to haunt you for eternity for lying to me.”

I didn’t get the reaction from him that I’d expected. No anger. No arrogant retort. Not even a snide snicker. I realized too late that I’d misspoken, and in doing so had awakened emotions in Daniel that I hadn’t seen in a very long time: fear and insecurity.

“ _’When_ I die’?” he said softly. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why would you say something like that?? You’re immortal. You’re not going to die.”

I looked off into the distance, as if I could see my future written in the fading stars of the sunrise.

“You never know what the future holds,” I said simply.

 

 


	48. No Longer a Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter skips ahead two years to 1912. Alice has just turned 12. Daniel is still in Morgan’s life, but Rhodes has not yet returned or contacted either one of them. Mary Grace now has 3 children (Matthew, Mark and Sarah) and is expecting another child in 1913. Alice predicts a boy. 
> 
> Just a reminder from a very early chapter: The Kamasutra was an ancient Indian Hindu text which detailed (with illustrations) various sexual positions. 
> 
> Also, this is a very awkward chapter, but there was no avoiding it. Poor Morgan…LOL (P.S. I received some flack from a reader, who very vehemently claimed that this just did not happen to girls this young back in 1912. smh I tried to tell her that biology doesn't follow strict rules, but she was adamant, citing antibiotics in modern diet as the cause for the young onset of menstruation these days, and that this could not have happened back then. Regardless, I stand by my plot and insist that it was entirely plausible for Alice to start her period at twelve.)

**~ ALICE ~**

_**Friday morning, November 29, 1912** _

 

I woke up feeling terrible. My stomach was aching and I was in no mood for food or company. I refused breakfast and chose to stay in bed instead.

Lying flat on my back proved to be too uncomfortable. I turned over onto my side and brought my knees up to my chest. That relieved the stomach cramps a little, but not very much. Soon, they returned with nauseating force—dull, aching pains that threatened to send the meager contents of my stomach up into my throat. I moaned and sat upright, pulling my knees up underneath my chin. I snaked my hand in between my stomach and my legs, and tried kneading the cramps away. Nothing worked.

Morning turned to afternoon, and the pain was still with me. I thought about calling for Mrs. Filkins, but decided I'd rather die alone than ask for her help. If I was going to die—and I increasingly thought I was—I'd rather go without the memory of her sour face in my mind. I just hoped I didn’t die before Morgan and Daniel got here this evening.

I groaned aloud as an especially violent cramp shot through my stomach. Bile rose in my throat, and before I could stop it, I was leaning over the edge of my bed vomiting onto the floor. After I had thrown up what little there was in my stomach, a sudden gush of warmth flooded my underclothes. Startled, I looked down between my legs and was shocked at what I saw: blood. 

On my legs, my sheets, and then on my hands as I searched frantically between my thighs to try and discover its source.

I realized then that this wasn’t just a simple stomach ache. I truly _was_ dying! I slid off the bed, and with blood streaking down my thighs, I threw open my door and screamed for help.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

I sighed aloud in contentment as the warmth of the fire toasted my socked feet. Daniel could preach at me for an eternity about a supposed Heaven that existed somewhere in the clouds, and I’d never believe it, because Heaven, for _me_ at least, was located in my study.

I spent every possible moment that I could in this room, stretched out on the comfortable maroon leather chairs, my legs resting on a matching ottoman set close to the fireplace. An ornate glass lamp on the side table provided the perfect soft light for reading. The paneled walls made the room feel close and intimate—a dark, comforting haven where men could escape the stresses of their lives. The faint odor of one of Daniel’s cigars lingered in the air. He’d jokingly taken up the habit, ignoring my valid argument that it was ludicrous for a vampire to smoke cigars, but my objections had been half-hearted at best. I loved the smell and I loved this room. I regularly thanked him for building it for me, which pleased him to no end.

He was currently in the parlor finishing up a portrait for a patron, which gave me plenty of time to catch up on my reading. My latest fascination was genetics and Henry Goddard’s book, _The Kallikak Family._ He put forth the idea that mental feebleness and retardation could quite possibly be genetically inherited traits within families. It was an intriguing subject that made me wonder if Alice’s gift would be present in her children, or if Daniel’s tendencies towards men would have appeared in _his_ children, had he had any. But soon, Daniel’s hovering presence in the doorway broke my concentration.

“Busy?” he asked.

“Just reading,” I answered. I marked my place in the book with Alice’s handmade bookmark and set it aside. Daniel had a very strange look on his face. I knew that look all too well. He was up to some mischief.

“What’s that you’re hiding behind your back?”

“A book,” he said.

“I thought you were painting.”

“I took a break. Started looking for something to read, and look what I found.” He drew the book out from behind his back and held it up in front of his chest, grinning for all he was worth.

 _The Kamasutra._ I sighed heavily. Of all of the hundreds of books that I owned, why did everyone seem to go straight to that one??

Still grinning, he crossed the room, settled into the chair next to mine and opened it to the inside cover. He read the inscription aloud. “To my eternal lover. May we never tire of each other…or of page 25.” He glanced my way, one eyebrow raised, and a crooked grin plastered all over his face. “Eternal lover?? Who wrote this?”

“Celine,” I said, sighing expansively. “And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

He snickered and immediately turned to what I assumed was page 25. “Hmmm, the Embrace of the Jaghana. Looks interesting.” Several moments of silence ensued as he read the description. “Aaaah, there’s biting involved. I see.” He snickered again and glanced at the center of my clothed chest. “Is that where you got the scar?”

I nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“I think you’ve been holding out on me, Michael."

I decided the best course of action was to ignore him. I retrieved my book from the side table, opened it to where I’d left off and resumed reading. For a very long time, the only sounds in the study were the crackling of the logs in the fireplace, and the soft swish of the pages as he thumbed through the book.

“Oh ho! Look at this!” He chuckled evilly and turned the book my way so that I could see the pictures. “This.” He jabbed his finger at a particular picture. “We should try this.”

My mouth dropped open. The figures in the picture were entwined in each other’s embrace, their limbs tangled together in an utterly improbable position. “Are you insane? That won’t work with us,” I sputtered.

“Sure it’ll work,” he insisted.

I stared back at him in disbelief. “Did you perhaps notice that all of the pictures in that book are of men and women together??”

He shrugged. “So? We’ll improvise.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “It won’t reach. No amount of improvisation is going to change that.”

“Well, mine won’t reach, but _yours_ will.”

“Daniel, you’re…” All I could do was shake my head and laugh, unable to find the appropriate word to finish the sentence.

“Incorrigible?” he asked, supplying the standard word I’d used for centuries to describe his antics.

“No. Incorrigible no longer fits. In fact, I don’t think there’s currently a word in the English language which aptly describes you.”

He laughed heartily and resumed thumbing through the book. Out of the corner of my eye, I followed his progress until he reached the end. He sighed heavily and set it on the side table. “I have an idea,” he said.

“I’m afraid to ask,” I muttered.

“I think we should write our own book,” he proclaimed. “Just for men like us. I’ll do the illustrations and you can write the descriptions.”

The man was completely out of touch with reality. “No publisher in these entire United States would ever print a book like that. You’re crazy.” I chuckled underneath my breath and turned my attention back to my book.

“A publisher printed this one. I don’t see why they wouldn’t print an opposing viewpoint. Do you?”

I sighed, closed my book and set it aside. “What would you call it? The Sod’s Guide to Sensual Swiving? Mating for Mollies? Oh, I know! The Sod-asutra.”

“The Sod-asutra,” he repeated, snickering. “I like that one.”

“What am I going to do with you?” I asked softly, shaking my head and smiling fondly.

He extended his hand across the table. I threaded my fingers in with his. “Take me to bed?” he suggested.

His golden eyes smoldered and flickered like the flames dancing in our fireplace. I could never resist him when he used his eyes to get what he wanted. They were incredibly beautiful and powerful in their appeal.

I couldn’t think of a better way to pass the time before I had to leave for work. “Let’s go work on our improvisations, then.”

 

* * *

 

Daniel had his body curled around mine like a vine around trellis, as had been his habit since we’d first met. I liked it, and found that I didn’t want to break our embrace. But, unfortunately, work awaited me. “Are you going to the hospital with me tonight?”

He sighed. “Can’t. I have to finish this portrait if I want to get paid. Just tell Alice I had to work. She’ll understand. Oh, and remind her to work on her three-point perspective project.”

“I’ll tell her. But just for the record, you probably would have had that portrait finished if you’d stayed focused on what you were doing,” I pointed out smugly.

“It’s your fault,” he said, sighing. “You’re too much of a distraction.”

“My fault, my arse!” I laughed and began the process of disentangling myself from his body amid his mild protests, which consisted of a great many tender kisses and some not-so-tender groping. “I have to go!”

He groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, muttering a string of foul oaths under his breath.

I hurriedly dressed for work, and delivered a soft kiss to the side of his head. “See you in the morning.”

“Love you,” he called softly just before I reached the bedroom door.

I looked over my shoulder. He was sprawled out on the bed on his stomach with his head turned to side, looking at me with one golden eye. The elegant curve of his nude body was a feast for anyone’s eyes. He was a beautifully built man. I regretted having to leave him.

“And I you,” I answered softly. 

 

* * *

 

 

When I opened the door to Alice's room, I knew something was wrong. The strong antiseptic someone had used to clean tried, but mostly failed, to cover the odors in her room: the faint smell of vomit and blood. Even more worrisome was the fact that Alice wasn’t there. I started down the hall in search of her and ran into Mrs. Filkins coming out of another patient’s room.

“Where is Alice?”

She stopped and considered me with contempt. “How should I know?”

I gritted my teeth. “You are the nurse in charge of this ward, aren’t you?”

Her lips came together in a thin, angry line. “In case you haven’t noticed, no one bothers with Alice any longer. She’s a parasite in this hospital. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her that medicine can cure. She’s a waste of valuable space.”

“Her room smells of sickness. What happened?” I asked, ignoring her hateful comments.

"That's none of your concern," she replied haughtily. "You're not her doctor _or_ her nurse."

"Is she ill?"

"Good Heavens, no! She’s not sick." She snorted contemptuously. “Good luck finding her, and don’t take all night about it. You have duties to attend to.”

She turned her back on me and stalked away. I stood in the middle of the hall considering all of Alice’s past hiding places. Some she’d outgrown, like the small plumber’s closet in the kitchen and the laundry chute in the housekeeping wing. It was too cold and windy for her to be out on the remote balcony. I’d just passed the office where patients were admitted, and the man who worked there had been alone. My best guess was the ice cellar. I walked in that direction, and listened for her characteristic heartbeat. I heard it long before I approached the door. I cracked open the door, pushed the switch that turned on the dim gas lights, and then trotted hastily down the wooden steps.

“Alice?”

I pinpointed her location. She was hiding behind a long row of crates stacked one on top of the other. I crossed the room and peered around them. She was in the corner, huddled into a tight ball, her arms wrapped around her legs, her head lying on her knees. Without the strong antiseptic odor interfering with my senses, I now knew what was wrong. The blood scent in my nostrils wasn’t fresh. It was the familiar human odor of dead blood. Alice had started her menses.

I slowly made my way past the row of boxes. When I reached her, I slid down onto the cold tile floor and sat with my back leaned up against a wooden crate. She never even acknowledged my presence. “It’s all right. I’m here.”

"Go away!" she shouted, her voice muffled by her knees.

"I'm not leaving. I know what happened to you today. It’s all right to talk about it, if you want."

"Mrs. Filkins said not to, especially with a man."

“You know you can talk to me about anything,” I said softly. “This is no different.”

Not for the first time, I regretted that Mary Grace no longer worked at the hospital. Her three children kept her busy enough at home, plus she was heavy with child again. She faithfully came to visit Alice once a week, but since she was close to delivering, her visits had become rather sporadic of late. This crisis had fallen, unwanted, into _my_ lap.

She sat in silence for the longest time, her face still hidden from my view. I waited patiently. Finally, she reluctantly raised her head from her knees. Her eyes were swollen from crying and they slid away from mine as I attempted to make eye contact with her. "I'm cursed," she whispered.

 _Cursed?!_ "Where did that come from?" I asked in astonishment.

"Mrs. Filkins said all women are cursed because we tempted Adam and caused him to sin, so we're cursed to bleed every month, and she said I was _doubly_ cursed because I was Satan’s mouthpiece.”

I had to physically fight the urge to leave the cellar and strangle her, but I remembered Daniel’s warning: I had to bide my time and wait for the perfect moment. Still, Mrs. Filkins’ day of reckoning was getting closer with each day that passed. Each slight, no matter how small, was being filed away in my mind, never to be forgotten. I had no idea when her time would come, but one day, one tiny straw was going to break the camel's back, and the camel was going to snap and go on a killing rampage.

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Haven't you learned by now that Mrs. Filkins is an ignorant and spiteful old woman? You should never listen to a thing she says."

“She said it was in the Bible and I could read it if I didn’t believe her. Women are unclean and cursed.”

“Well, many things in the Bible are nothing but ridiculous nonsense!” I snapped. Her wide-eyed look of shock caused me to immediately regret the remark. It wasn’t my place to impose my lack of faith onto her.

“I’m sorry. Forget I said that,” I offered contritely. “I just meant that many of the stories in the Bible are open to interpretation and have to be taken in the context of the time period in which they were written. Society has progressed a great deal since that time. We no longer consider women unclean or cursed just because of something their body does naturally.”

"I'm not cursed?" she asked, her eyes finally meeting mine. They were brimming with tears and filled with sadness too profound for her meager years.

"No, you’re not. The medical term for it is your menstrual cycle and it’s perfectly normal for a young lady your age. Did Mrs. Filkins, or any of the nurses, explain it to you?”

"No."

I sighed in dismay. The task, it seemed, had fallen to me. I mentally steeled myself, and decided to approach it as just another of her lessons—just like math, science or reading.

"When your body reaches a certain age, it begins to prepare for childbirth," I started. That got her attention. Her eyes widened with interest. I explained, in detail, exactly how a woman's body worked. She listened attentively; her eyes never strayed from my face as I spoke of eggs and fertilization.

"If the egg isn't fertilized, then your body expels it along with the protective 'blanket' it made in preparation for a baby. That 'blanket' is the blood and tissue that makes up your menstrual cycle, and this same process occurs every month until you're at an advanced age—unless you become with child, then it stops temporarily."

"So, you mean I can have babies now?" she asked hesitantly.

"Your _body_ is ready, but there's more to being a mother than just the physical part," I explained. "A certain level of emotional maturity is needed, and right now, you're much too young to be thinking of having children."

She grew quiet and thoughtful for awhile. Finally, she turned the full force of those curious green eyes in my direction. "How is the egg fertilized?"

"That's rather complicated, I'm afraid," I said, suddenly uncomfortable at the direction the conversation had taken. "I have a book at home that you can read that will help you understand the process. I'll bring it tomorrow evening and we'll talk about it then."

She nodded, and then smiled. "Thank you," she said softly. "For telling me." 

 

* * *

 

 

_**Saturday morning, November 30, 1912** _

 

I arrived home to find Daniel perched on his stool, still laboring over the portrait. As soon as our eyes met, he knew something was wrong. I could never hide anything from him.

“What is it? What’s happened?” he asked.

“Alice started her menses yesterday. She’s no longer a child.” Saying it aloud finally brought home the enormity of what had happened. Alice was growing up into a young woman right before my eyes. Time was passing much too quickly to suit me.

“Is she all right?” he asked worriedly.

“She was frightened. No one had explained it to her. Apparently, when it happened, she was convinced she was dying and would never get to see either one of us again. She hid herself in the cellar all afternoon and cried. I hate that I can’t be there with her every moment of the day.”

“But she’s all right now?”

I nodded. “She’s fine, but you know our little Ali-Boo. She’s asking questions, wanting details, and Mary Grace probably won’t be visiting until next week. That leaves the explaining to me.”

“Just get one of the nurses to do it,” Daniel suggested, shrugging.

“There aren’t enough hands to do what needs to be done in that hospital. You know that,” I explained. “It’s up to me, I’m afraid. Luckily, I have a book.”

Daniel snickered. “Why am I not surprised? You seem to have a book about everything.”

“You’re coming with me tonight. I’m not doing this by myself.”

He dropped his paintbrush into a jar full of liquid, wiped his hands and laughed his arse off for the longest time. “Ohhhhh no. I’m not having any part of this.”

“Coward!” I snapped angrily.

“You’re damned right I’m a coward,” he agreed, grinning. “I know absolutely nothing about women’s private parts except that I never want them touching mine. I would be as useless as teats on a boar.”

“I’ll remember that,” I fumed. “Someday, you’re going to need a favor, and I’m going to remind you that you deserted me in my hour of great need.”

He slid his thick arms around my body and pulled me close. Laughing softly in my ear, he sought to reassure me. “You’ll do fine.” He laid a trail of tender kisses from my ear to my cheek. “Just treat it as a lesson, just like all of her other ones. I have complete faith in you. You’ll handle it superbly.” 

 

* * *

 

 

_**Saturday evening, November 30, 1912** _

 

I entered Alice's room with trepidation. I knew that I was being ridiculous. A man my age, and with my life experiences, should not have been uncomfortable or embarrassed to talk about sex. But speaking of it with a young lady, and Alice specifically, mortified me beyond all words. Perhaps I could persuade her to wait until Mary Grace's visit for an explanation.

"Did you bring the book?" she asked before I could even sit down.

"Wouldn't you rather wait and talk about this with Mary Grace?" I asked, hopefully. "She's married and has children,  _and_ she's a woman. You might be more comfortable speaking of it with her."

"I don't want to wait."

I sighed and laid the anatomy book on the bed beside her. She pulled her tray in front of her crossed legs and ate absent-mindedly as we began discussing human reproduction. I turned to the page that contained a detailed drawing of the female reproductive organs. She watched and listened attentively as I explained the various parts, and pointed them out to her in the illustrations. Once, she laid her hand softly on her abdomen and studied it.

"I look like that inside?" she asked in awe.

I nodded.

She silently read the accompanying text that explained the functions of the various organs. I was proud that she was able to read it without my assistance. When she finished, I asked her if she had any questions about it. She shook her head and said she understood everything so far.

I sighed inwardly and wished I were anywhere else but in this room. I also silently cursed Daniel, whose cowardly arse was safe at home at that very moment. It took an enormous amount of courage on my part to turn the page to the illustrations of the male reproductive organs. Without meeting her eyes, and keeping my voice business-like and neutral, I pointed out the various parts of the male reproductive system, and explained very briefly what purpose they each served.

Reflexively, she glanced down at my groin and then quickly back at the illustrations. Her face reddened noticeably. If I could have blushed, I would have,  _profusely._ She silently read the text accompanying the illustrations. When she was finished, I cringed inside, but asked anyway if she had any questions.

"So...the man's—" She stopped to consult the picture in order to find the proper term. "—penis is inserted into the woman?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," I answered shortly.

"And...the man's—" Again, she consulted the text for accuracy. "—sperm is released inside her, and that's what fertilizes the egg?" She looked up at me for confirmation.

"Yes."

She looked down between her legs and fell silent. I knew Alice. Her brain was working furiously. She was too intelligent and inquisitive to be satisfied with a general explanation. I imagined she was trying to figure out the logistics of it all.

A frown wrinkled across her forehead. “The book says that the penis is…” She peered at the text again until she found what she was looking for, and quoted it word-for-word. “…’flaccid in its natural state, being, on average, an inch to as many as three or four inches in length. In its fully erect state, lengths vary from five inches to as many as twelve, or more, in rare instances'.” She looked up at me in shock. "Wouldn't that hurt???"

 _Damn._  Could this conversation get any worse?! "It's not supposed to," I answered without elaboration.

"So, it feels...good?" she asked doubtfully.

"Most of the time," I answered, hoping she wouldn't press further.

"So, how does the baby thing work?"

With a sigh of relief, I turned the page. She studied the illustrations concerning childbirth very intently, and read the accompanying text at great length. "The baby comes out...there?" she asked. Her mouth opened in shock as she looked down between her legs and visibly shivered. "Ewww, maybe I shouldn't have eighty-seven children after all."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."

She chuckled along with me. The previous awkwardness fled with our laughter. This conversation was turning out much better than I’d anticipated. Or so I’d thought.

"What it’s like?"

There were so many types of sex, so many emotional nuances that distinguished genuine lovemaking from the empty, unsatisfying biological act itself. How could I explain the differences to her?

"It’s hard to describe, because sex is very complicated," I started. "It can be many different things at different times and with different people. The most satisfying sex, of course, is when a man and a woman are deeply in love with each other. It becomes more than just a physical act then. It's an expression of their love."

I thought about mine and Daniel’s relationship. There was no good way to explain that to a twelve-year-old. I decided to skip it.

"Then, there are times when sex isn't so pleasant. For example, a man could force a woman to have sex with him against her will. That's referred to as rape, and it's against the law. And sometimes sex is merely a physical act with no love or emotion attached to it, like when a man seeks out a prostitute. He doesn't care for her; he's only seeking physical release."

"What's a prostitute?" she asked curiously.

"A woman who sells her body to men for money," I answered. She frowned, but didn’t comment further.

"Have you had sex?" she asked suddenly, her eyes intent on my face.

How to answer? I’d engaged in all forms of the sex I’d just described. I’d made love with Asha, Katherine, Rhodes and Daniel, but I’d also committed untold rapes, and murdered innumerable prostitutes. I suddenly felt unworthy to even be discussing this subject with Alice. It felt as if my sordid past would somehow sully her childish innocence just by my mere presence in the room. I wondered if I’d ever be able to tell her of the atrocities I’d committed, and if I ever _did_ tell her, what her reaction would be.

“Yes, I have,” I answered simply, not knowing what else to say on the matter.

“I doubt I ever will,” she said quietly, looking down and avoiding my eyes.

Once again, I cursed her parents for abandoning her, which was a waste of my energy. Her mother was dead, which we already knew. But apparently, her father had disappeared off the face of the earth, or so I’d heard from the hospital gossip mill. With the hospital as Alice’s only home, what hope did she have of meeting a young man, marrying him and having a family of her own? There was very little chance of that happening, and we both knew it. The thought saddened me, because all Alice wanted was a normal life and a home filled with the laughter of children. It was a joy to watch her interact with Matthew and Mark, and now little Sarah. She loved them intensely.

I stroked her hair tenderly. “Never give up hope. I have no doubt that there’s someone special out there just waiting for you to find him.”

She looked up at me, her green eyes huge and hopeful. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

In actuality, the idea of me and Alice having a relationship other than a platonic one was ludicrous. No matter what Rhodes thought, I wasn’t Alice’s future. She wanted children and I’d never be able to give them to her. I’d rather extricate myself from her life completely, and suffer the agonizing pain of being separated from her, than be the instrument of her death.

“Daniel says our souls can communicate with each other, and when we meet the person who is right for us, we know it in our hearts. It will happen for you. I promise.”

She scooted to the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I love you, Morgan.”

“And I you,” I answered softly.

 

**ALICE AT 12 YEARS OLD**

 

 


	49. Acts of Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we all know, James is a major player in Alice’s back story. His attempt to kill her was what caused her vampire protector to change her to a vampire. James was a fledgling vampire (only reborn in the late 1700s) and Alice’s vampire protector was described as being “very old” (in vampire years, not human years). 
> 
> So, as SM writes the story, James thought Alice smelled really good (uh…how did he discover her in that asylum? Visiting relatives, was he?? *snort*) and so he wanted to kill her. My big question is how did a fledgling vampire, with no other gift but tracking, manage to kill an ancient vampire with an unknown gift? The whole plot was lame (in my opinion). So, I came up with a different story: 
> 
> Morgan and James have a history. They’ve met before, and a single event is the source of the animosity between them. Alice just gets caught in the middle of their ongoing feud. This chapter finally reveals what happened between James and Michael that is fueling James’ relentless thirst for revenge.

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**Saturday morning, December 7, 1912** _

 

My day got much brighter when I arrived home from work. As soon as I stepped through the front door I was attacked, quite literally, by a yellow bundle of jumping, lapping, barking fur. Daniel was back from Atlanta, after a week-long absence that had seemed like months to me.

“I think Molly’s glad to see you,” he said wryly.

I laughed at Daniel’s understatement and spent several minutes playing with one of my most favorite women in the world. I willingly subjected myself to her wet kisses, and ran my hands through her soft fur, stopping occasionally to give her a few scratches behind the ears.

“Molly!” Daniel’s stern command brought a halt to her enthusiastic greeting. “That’s _my_ man you’re monopolizing.”

Molly huffed softly and dropped to the floor, arranging herself into a round pile of fluff. She watched from below as a grinning Daniel engulfed me in his arms. “I missed you,” he murmured against the skin of my neck.

I breathed his fresh, clean scent into my lungs, and a feeling of quiet contentment settled into my heart. “Not as much as I missed _you.”_

I frowned as he pushed at my cowlick. He laughed and delivered a series of sweet and tender kisses upon my mouth. “How’s Alice?” he asked in between said kisses.

“Stubborn, sweet, annoying, adorable, precocious, the usual,” I answered, smiling fondly. Alice was a constant source of pleasure and aggravation in my life that I wouldn’t trade for any amount of money. I knew that Daniel felt the same way.

“That’s good,” he said, but his mind obviously wasn’t on Alice. Those sweet and tender kisses of before were suddenly much more passionate. His voice, low and husky, raised the hairs all over my body. “I think I’m going to scoop you up into my arms and carry you off to bed.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “I think if you try that I’m going to rip your bollocks off.”

He laughed heartily and it was a beautiful sound to my ears. “Promise me you’ll kiss them first.”

“But of course.”

We smiled at each other, taking pleasure in our good-natured banter, and then walked hand-in-hand to the bedroom.

* * *

 

  
**Saturday afternoon, December 7, 1912**  
  


A small fire warmed both our feet as we relaxed comfortably in the study. I was reading and Daniel, of course, was drawing.

“Did Alice finish her portrait assignment?”

 _Oh dear._ How to answer? Alice had sworn me to secrecy and I’d stupidly agreed. I decided to be truthful. He’d find out anyway. “Uh…not exactly,” I said, marking my place and setting my book aside.

He stopped drawing and frowned. “She had an entire week. She should have finished it.”

“Well…” I’d always tried not to interfere in Daniel’s art lessons, and he’d refrained from interfering in mine. We each had things of value to teach her, and none was better than the other. But this time…

“Well what?” he asked, his frown deepening.

“Well, she asked me if she could do something else, and I gave her my permission,” I said with caution.

“Something else??”

I sighed at his reaction. He was annoyed with me for interfering, as I’d known he would be. “She’s not very good at portraiture. In fact, she’s terrible. That poor fellow she was trying to draw looked like he’d run face-first into a locomotive.”

He grimaced. “That bad?”

I nodded.

“Okay, then. Perhaps portraits aren’t her strong suit. So, what did she end up doing all week?” he asked curiously.

“Sketches,” I answered. “She’s been furiously sketching out baby clothes every spare moment she’s had. She had a vision that Mary Grace’s little boy would be here sooner than expected, so she dropped everything and starting designing him an entire wardrobe.”

Daniel cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Clothes? Well, I can’t wait to see them. Are they good?”

“They’re quite good. Exceptional, in fact.” I didn’t know much about the technical side of art, but I knew beautiful work, _and_ talent, when I saw it. Alice definitely had it, just not with portraits. 

Thankfully, Daniel didn’t seem too upset. He returned his attention to his drawing, which he was artfully keeping hidden from me. I retrieved my book from the side table and continued on with my reading.

The fire popping in the fireplace, the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock standing regally in the corner, the raspy scratching of Daniel’s charcoal against the paper, all sounds of home— _my_ home. My small corner of this great big world was, at that particular moment, a very peaceful place. I was as content as any man could be.

“What are you reading?” he asked, without looking up from his drawing.

“It’s a book about the Civil War. Alice and I have been discussing it all week.”

He stopped drawing and studied me for a few moments, then shut the cover on his tablet. He set paper and charcoals aside and considered me curiously. “Rhodes told me that you were involved in the Civil War. Were you a soldier?”

I closed my book and set it aside. “No. I was more of an…observer.”

“I’d like to hear about it.”

I sighed. “It’s a very long story.”

He crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his arms across his chest, like he was settling in for a bedtime story. “I have nothing but time.”

I sighed again. He had the look of a man who wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. “All right.” I thought about where I should start the tale, and realized it could only logically begin in Romania. That was where things had gotten bad for me. “When I left Romania, I came here to the New World to get my thirst, and my violent tendencies, back under control again.”

Daniel frowned; I knew he was blaming himself for my deterioration, but he wasn’t solely to blame. I was the one who’d volunteered to create the newborns so that he wouldn’t have to do any killing, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that I’d enjoyed it. “Don’t blame yourself. We both had an equal hand in what happened over there.”

He nodded in apparent agreement, so I continued on with my explanation. “I withdrew into the wilderness and starved myself out of curiosity. I wanted to see how long I could go without feeding, and the effect it would have on my body. I finally determined that I could safely go six weeks without hunting. When I felt I had my impulses under a little bit better control, I emerged from my exile and began mingling again with humans.

“It didn’t take me long to realize that the world around me was in turmoil. I could sense the undercurrents of fear and hear the anger in the mens' conversations. They spoke of slavery, industrialization, states’ rights, and a lot of other things that I didn’t understand. But one word I kept hearing everywhere, and that I _did_ understand, was war.”

I stopped there. I dreaded telling the rest. I avoided thinking of those times as much as I could. If I hadn’t had to teach Alice about that particular time in America’s history I would have been happy to have never thought about it again. “I was at Shiloh,” I said softly and stopped again.

Daniel picked up on the change in tone of my voice. He sat up out of his relaxed pose and studied me with narrowed eyes, waiting for me to continue.

“I watched the battle from afar, just for curiosity’s sake. Two days of killing, and when the smoke cleared, 24,000 men lay dead on the ground. I’d never seen so much death in one place before. Blood was everywhere. The air reeked of it. Just thinking about it makes my throat ache even now.”

I had to stop and swallow the venom that had pooled in my mouth just from remembering the smell that had permeated the air that day.

“When the sun began to set, I ventured out of the shadows. I'd stolen a uniform off a dead Union soldier several days before, so no one paid any attention to me, thinking perhaps I was one of the men assigned to deal with the dead. I walked through those fields. I stepped over countless bodies with limbs or faces blown off. Occasionally, I stepped over one who was still alive, but I didn’t stop to help. I was on a personal mission, you see. I wanted to know if I could walk through all of that blood without losing my control. That was my only goal that day.

“Then I stepped over a body that looked just like all of the other ones—bloody and torn—except this man was still alive and he was determined not to let me pass. He grabbed my pants leg and I was forced to stop. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to get personally involved in the war. I just wanted to prove something to myself and leave. But he held on pretty damned tenaciously for a man whose guts were spilled out all over the ground beside him.”

I stopped again, and Daniel seemed to know that the rest was going to be difficult for me to tell. He moved from his chair, pushed my feet off of the ottoman and sat down in front of me, waiting, his golden eyes fixed on my face.

“He asked me to kill him,” I said softly. “To put a ball into his head. But, of course, I had no weapon or any need of one. I didn’t know what to say to him. I tried to walk off, but he held on tight to my pants leg. I could have shaken him off easily, of course, but I found that I couldn’t do it.

“In a voice so weak that no human could have heard it, he started telling me about his wife—her name and where they lived, and that he loved her. He told me there was a daguerreotype of her in his coat pocket, and he asked me if I could return it to her. He even recited a message for me to give her along with it. Then he asked me again to kill him because the pain was nearly unbearable.

“I’d sworn to myself that after what happened in Romania, I would never take an innocent man’s life ever again, but he was suffering, and he was obviously not going to make it.  I promised him I’d deliver his message and the picture to his wife. He smiled and thanked me, then closed his eyes and waited for death. I snapped his neck. And, I kept my promise. I wrote the message on a piece of paper and slid it, along with the picture, underneath her front door.”

I stopped the story and stared into Daniel’s eyes, searching for a reaction. He’d always disapproved of the killing of innocent humans, and had only turned a blind eye to it in Romania out of necessity. I sometimes wondered if his passive participation in all of that ever weighed on his conscience, but I’d never asked. I avoided reliving those dark days in Romania as much as possible.

Daniel took my hand into his, and held onto my gaze. “This is why I love you. No matter what you profess to the contrary, you have the heart of an angel.”

 _The heart of an angel??_ I snorted softly. After all of the horrors I’d unleashed upon this world in the past, only a love-sick fool like Daniel could have made such a ridiculous comparison. I had a long way to go before anyone could describe me as angelic.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, his eyes hardening with resolve. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re telling yourself that you’re the farthest thing from an angel that exists, but a heartless man would have jerked his pants leg out of that man’s grasp and walked away. Do you have any idea what a gift you gave him? You gave him peace and a dignified death. How many others did you help in this way?”

“One hundred and thirty-seven,” I answered. “Just a drop in the ocean.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand. “But every drop helps. What counts is you’re trying to make up for the things you’ve done by helping others. It’s admirable and I respect you for it.”

His kind words, and his approval of my actions, warmed my heart and meant more to me than he would ever know. “I could have helped a great many more if I’d minded my own business,” I said quietly, remembering back to the day I’d agreed to join James’ coven.

Daniel cocked his head and frowned. “Well, that’s certainly a cryptic statement that I hope you’re going to explain.”

“At Gettysburg, I crossed paths with a small coven of vampires: a leader and three newborns. They were scavenging the battlefield, feeding off the dead and dying, stealing their belongings. I ignored them at first. Who was I to judge? I’d done the same thing countless times in my past. My intent was to avoid them and move on to the next battle, but the leader of the coven had a different idea.

“His name was James. He has dirty blonde hair that he keeps tied back at the nape of his neck in a thong. He’s very plain, considering that most vampires are quite pleasing to the eye. He’s cruel and ruthless. You need to know about him, and what happened between us, just in case he decides to pay us a visit. Because James is determined to eventually kill someone I hold dear to my heart.”

Daniel frowned. “Why?”

I sighed. “Because I killed someone close to _him.”_

Daniel narrowed his eyes and considered me curiously as he waited for me to explain further. To his credit, he proved to be a patient listener and kept the interruptions at a minimum as I slowly related the story:

“When I was approached by James to join his coven, he had four newborns with him, instead of the three I’d seen on the battlefield. Those three were obviously unstable, but the fourth one bore watching, as he seemed more intelligent and controlled than the others. The main reason I decided to join James’s coven was the human woman they had with them.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he said nothing.

“At one time, I imagine she was very lovely, but she wasn’t any longer. Her pale skin was sunburned and flaking. She had incredibly long, dark hair, but it was ratted and dirty. She had the most beautiful blue eyes, Daniel, but when I looked into them, I could tell she was very close to losing her sanity. She had bruises on her neck and I could only imagine where else. She was extremely thin and malnourished. None of them acknowledged her presence or even introduced me to her. James hovered over her protectively while we talked, so I naturally assumed she was his. I vowed right then and there that I’d join their coven and help her escape, because it was obvious she was being held against her will and she was terrified of them.

“I accepted James’s invitation, and set about the task of gaining his trust. I told him I was a lover of men, and that women didn’t interest me in that way. I wanted him to think he could trust me around his woman, and he eventually did. After awhile, I was asked to stay behind and guard her, instead of scavenging with the group.

“But, gaining _her_ trust was a great deal harder. She wouldn’t talk to me, or to anyone for that matter, so I talked to _her_ —long one-sided conversations about whatever came to mind. She just listened and stared at me with suspicious eyes. Then one day, I started telling her about myself. I spoke of Asha and Rhodes and our happy life together, then her murder and what a profound loss it was to me. I told her of a man I met in England, a good man who became one of my most treasured friends on this earth. I left out the part about us being lovers, of course.”

Daniel smiled and nodded in understanding.

“I told her about Katherine and Matthew and how much I missed them both. She listened through it all but said nothing. I began to wonder if I’d ever gain her trust enough for her to even speak to me, let alone for me to help her escape.

“But then one day she finally spoke. She said, ‘You’re not like them.’ That was all she said that day, but it was enough for me to know I’d made progress.

“The next day, she told me her name was Emma Haskins and that her husband had been killed at the First Battle of Bull Run, and she said nothing else that day. Eventually, she began to talk more and more, and to trust me. She even allowed me to work the tangles out of her hair and plait it into a long braid. I worried that day over what James’s reaction would be, but he wasn’t upset. He seemed pleased at her improvement.

“Then one day, when I felt she finally trusted me enough, I broached the subject of escaping, and I was in no way prepared for her answer. She didn’t want me to help her escape. She wanted me to help her end her life.”

“Why??” he asked, confused. “Why would she want to do that when you were going to help her get away?”

I looked into the past and I could see that moment as clearly as if it were happening right then, that haunted look in her eyes, the defeat and hopelessness evident in the sag of her shoulders as she told me why she wanted to die.

“She was with child, and it belonged to James,” I answered softly.

“Dear God in Heaven,” Daniel swore under his breath. “The bastard.”

I nodded in agreement. “She also told me he didn’t know. Of course, I immediately thought of Matthew, our sweet boy. If Katherine had taken her own life when she found out she was carrying my child, we would have never known him. Because of my love for Matthew, I tried to talk her out of it. I told her all about what happened with Katherine. I spoke of Matthew and what a precious gift he’d been to us. I tried, but she wouldn’t listen.

“We didn’t speak to each other for several days after that. I was angry that she’d kill an innocent child who’d had no choice in being conceived. I couldn’t seem to separate that faceless baby from my own son. When she finally did speak to me, she asked if Katherine had had difficulty giving birth. That was when the reality of the situation broke through all of the sentimental nonsense. Katherine had died a brutal death, and the same was going to happen to her. Once I accepted that, the rest fell into place, and I wondered where my logical mind had been those last few days.

“Emma had no one, and nowhere to escape to. She’d been held against her will and brutally raped. Even if she wanted the child, which she vehemently didn’t, she would die giving birth to it. With her dead, there would be no one to care for the infant, especially one who would be so obviously different. It was a hopeless situation with only one solution.”

I flicked my eyes to Daniel’s, afraid of what I’d see there: disapproval and disgust. But instead, I saw only sadness and understanding.

“I finally agreed to help her, but only if she would leave with me. I wanted as far away from James and his coven as I could get before I did it. That was my only condition and she agreed. We left the next time the group went out to scavenge. We fled toward the West and open country, but there was one important piece of information I didn’t know, that James had purposely withheld from me. He was a tracker.”

“Like Demetri?” Daniel asked.

“Not as skilled, but skilled enough. He was a day behind us and finally caught up, but it was too late. I’d already done it.”

“How did he react?” Daniel asked, grimacing, because he already knew.

“I told him it was an accident, that she’d fallen and hadn’t recovered. He didn’t believe me. He was livid, and accused me of murdering his mate.”

“His mate??” Daniel found the idea as ludicrous as I had at the time.

I snorted in derision. “Yes, his mate, which was absolute nonsense. The woman despised him, was terrified of him, and he deluded himself into thinking she loved him?? I thought him insane at the time, but now I know he’s just a selfish, brutal vampire.

“He slowly approached me, his cohorts following his lead. He meant to kill me, and I wasn’t going to allow that. I cautioned him to back away and warned him he was no match for me. He must have seen something in my eyes that made him believe me, because he hesitated, and instead signaled the newborn—the stable one—to attack me. In mere moments, it was over. His newborn lay immobile on the ground. Not dead, but he was useless, and forever would be.”

“You used your other gift.” Even though Daniel knew I would never use it on someone I loved, I still heard fear in his voice.

“Yes,” I answered. “James had no idea what I’d done, but he was smart enough to realize I was dangerous. Even with three other newborns behind him, he chose not to take the chance. He wisely backed off, but left me with a threat. He swore he would get revenge for Emma, and that one day he would murder someone I loved. He warned me I would never be able to elude him, that he would track me where ever I went, and he would watch and wait for the perfect time. He stopped by for a chat in 1906 to see how I was doing, and to see if there was anyone I loved hanging around for him to kill. He left disappointed.”

“You can’t ever let him find out about Alice,” Daniel said fearfully.

“No. Or you, or Rhodes,” I added.

He snorted. “Don’t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves. It’s Ali-Boo we have to protect.”

I nodded in agreement. I sighed and stared at the fire, losing myself in the golden flickering flames and wishing I could go back in time and fix the mistakes I’d made.

“Michael.” Daniel’s hand on my knee drew my attention away from the past. “What are you thinking? Tell me.”

“Of all the people I’ve killed, Emma’s death weighs the heaviest on me. Did I do the right thing? Was it an act of mercy…or murder?”

He scooted closer and gripped my shoulder in his large hand, a gesture of comfort that was as welcome to me an embrace. “It was what she wanted,” he stated with surety.

“But what about the unborn child? Was _that_ mercy…or murder?”

Daniel shook his head at my implication. “There was no malice in your heart toward that child. God will take that into account.”

I huffed out of frustration. “I don’t care about God! I only care what _you_ think. Was it mercy or murder??”

He sighed. “My personal opinion is that Emma made the decision to end her own life, and thus her child’s. If you hadn’t helped her, she probably would have found another way to do it. The decision to take that life was ultimately hers, not yours. She will be the one who will have to answer for it.”

I shifted my gaze away from his and back to the fire. Despite Daniel’s assurances that I was not responsible, it didn’t escape my attention that he’d avoided answering the question directly. I’d known full well the infant would die with her, and yet I’d still killed her. Had I committed an act of mercy or murder upon the child?

That question, and the elusive answer, would forever haunt me. 

 


	50. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Alice is 12 and, if you recall, she is now a young woman, having started her periods a couple of months earlier. Also, I’m providing pictures of the characters at the end of this chapter just to refresh everyone’s memory of how I see these people in my mind.

**~ DANIEL ~**

_**The pre-dawn hours of December 14, 1912** _

****

I was just finishing up the application of the second layer of grout to the bathroom tiles when a knock sounded at the front door. Whoever the visitor was, they were impatient. I heard the soft click of the latch before I even finished wiping my hands. In seconds, I was in Michael’s parlor staring down the trespasser.  “Well, well, well. Look what the cat drug in. What are you doing here, Rhodes?”

She calmly removed her hatpins and hat, depositing them carefully on the kitchen table. “I’m here to visit Michael, of course,” she answered with a polite smile.

“You’re five years, eleven months and twenty days late.”

That brought her up short. 

“You’re keeping count?”

“I can give you the minutes and seconds if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” she responded coolly, sweeping her eyes over the room. “Where’s Molly?”

I shrugged. “Out wandering around, having fun, I imagine. She’ll meander back when she gets bored, tired, or hungry. Sort of like you.”

Her scarlet eyes narrowed menacingly. “Why are you being such an ass?”

“I don’t know. Why have you been gone for over five years and never once contacted him? Who or what was so important that you couldn’t stop by, or at least write a letter?”

“What I’ve been doing is none of your business,” she snapped.

“Anything that has to do with Michael is my business,” I snapped back.

We glared at each other across the small space that separated us. I wanted so badly to toss her out onto the front porch on her pretty arse. The thought of Michael’s reaction was the only thing holding me back. As much as I hated to admit it, he’d probably be overjoyed to see her.

“I thought we were friends,” she said finally, her gaze softening a bit.

“You hurt him. That changes things.”

It pleased me to see her flinch.

“He understands why I left, and if he confided in you, then you should understand it, too.”

“I understand that you’re selfish, that all that matters is _you_ and _your_ feelings.”

Her eyes flared like crimson flames. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!!”

“I know that you left because of Alice, because she’s his singer.” I sneered at her with disdain. “Poor Rhodes couldn’t stand not being the center of attention, so she packed up her toys and went home.”

Her lips curled in fury. Like a flash of lighting, she struck, but I was prepared for the blow. I clutched her wrist in my iron grip as she struggled to get free, determined to rip my arm off in the process if necessary. “You arrogant bastard!!” she shouted, finally jerking her arm free from my grasp. “How does he stand you??!”

I smirked, laying the arrogance on extra thick. “Oh, he stands me just fine and it’s because, unlike some people, I’m loyal. There’s something to be said for sticking by a person no matter the circumstances, especially if you claim to love them. I’m not threatened by Alice. I love her as much as Michael does, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She shook her head sadly. “You’re a fool, a damned fool. If Alice develops feelings for Michael, he won’t turn her away. He won’t be able to. You’re going to get hurt if you stay here. Oh, he won’t mean to hurt you, and he’ll feel horrible about it, but he still will. Despite what you might think, I like you and I am not going to derive any pleasure out of seeing you hurt, because I’ve been through it, and I know how it feels. I stay away because I _have_ to, not because I want to. It’s to preserve what little is left of my heart.”

She wasn’t telling me anything that hadn’t already gone through my mind a hundred times. Contrary to what she may have thought, I didn’t have my head in the sand. I had considered the future and what I would do if Michael turned to Alice. “I’ve shared him with women before. I can share him with her, too, if it comes to that.”

“There won’t be any sharing,” she said softly. “Everyone will be ignored but her.”

I frowned in reaction to her pessimism. I couldn’t conceive of Michael ignoring our love for each other, denying our history together, and just casting it aside like it had meant nothing. He wasn’t that unfeeling. She was wrong about him.

“I can see it in your eyes. You don’t believe me. And perhaps things will work out differently. Perhaps Alice will love him only as a daughter loves her father. I hope with all my heart that is what happens, but I’m not optimistic.” She sighed and surprised me by placing a comforting hand on my forearm, the same one she’d tried to rip off moments earlier. “Not even taking into account that her blood sings to him, she resembles Asha in so many subtle ways. She’s small and fragile-looking, which makes him want to protect her; long, dark hair, which he loves; the heart-shaped face; the slight upward slant of her eyes. Alice’s bubbly personality is so like Asha’s. She was such a pleasant person to be around. I knew Asha personally, so I see these things in Alice that you don’t. Michael’s drawn to her for much more than just her blood.”

The resemblance between Asha and Alice had never occurred to me. I quickly analyzed Alice’s face and my memory of Asha’s portrait, and the similarities were striking. That realization sent a stab of pain straight into my heart, and only strengthened Rhodes’ argument. For as long as I’d known him, Michael had always gravitated to women who resembled Asha, and Alice definitely possessed features similar to hers, although not as pronounced. Add in the pull of her blood scent...

“I’ll take my chances,” I attested stubbornly, even as my heart struggled to come to terms with the inevitability of it all. I wanted so badly to hate someone for this, but there was no one. This was none of our faults, just the irony of life rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune time.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, and I could tell she really meant it.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said simply. “He’s my mate and that will never change. I’ll always be there for him in whatever capacity he wants me. This changes nothing for me.”

She frowned in confusion. “How can you—?”

It was at that moment Michael arrived home from the hospital, shutting the door behind him in quiet astonishment. “Rhodes!” His welcoming smile broke the tension in the room and in moments, Rhodes was in his arms, the recipient of a multitude of his sweet kisses. “It’s so good to see you!”

Michael was beaming. Laughing. His hands all over her as if he couldn’t believe she was real. I sighed inwardly while keeping my expression neutral. He loved her no matter how much she’d hurt him with her leaving. There was no getting around that fact. My anger was an empty weapon, useless in the face of his adoration for her.

Michael broke away from her and glanced my way. “Everything all right?”

I nodded. “Everything’s fine. I was just finishing up the second layer of grout when she arrived.” I met her eyes. “We’ve been catching up, haven’t we, Rhodes?”

She nodded and smiled. I smiled back. Michael eyed us both curiously, but said nothing, apparently satisfied that all was truly well between us.

“I think I’ll go and spend the day with Alice and leave you two alone.”

Despite his protests that I didn’t have to leave, they needed privacy, and I had no desire to hang around and watch their reunion play out in detail.  _Time to share…_

“I’ll see you tonight at the hospital.” I hesitated at his side long enough to brush my lips over his. Rhodes needed to know that he was mine just as much as he was hers, and I was only stepping aside temporarily. But Michael surprised me by deepening our kiss right in front of her and I loved him all the more for it.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly against my mouth.

I nodded and gave him one last quick kiss. “You’re very welcome.” I glanced sidelong at Rhodes and her face was as impassive as mine had been earlier. “You two have fun.” 

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

“Tell me all about your travels. Where have you been?”

“Nowhere in particular. Just wandering. Although, I stumbled upon something very unusual in South America, something you may find intriguing.”

We sat on the Chesterfield holding hands, while she told me of a hybrid she accidentally discovered while traveling through Chile. His name was Nahuel and he was born of a vampire father and human mother, just like my Matthew. As impatient as I was to whisk her off to bed for a proper reunion, I found myself spellbound by her tale, and hesitant to stop her. I was instantly fascinated with this man’s life, as it gave me insight into what my own son’s life would have been like had he lived.

Nahuel was nearly sixty years old, but Rhodes said he looked very young, perhaps in his late teens, early twenties. He claimed he’d stopped aging after reaching adulthood. His skin and overall appearance were much like a vampire’s, as well as his strengths and abilities. He was venomous, she said, which surprised me. Matthew had been non-venomous, much to our relief. We’d discovered that interesting trait after he’d bitten another young boy in anger who had teased him about his size.

Soon, I found my attention wandering, despite my intense curiosity about the hybrid. Her scarlet eyes sparkled as she talked. Her hair was piled high on her head and my hands itched to pull it down and let it fall free in wild abandon about her shoulders. The bodice of her dress was clasped together with a great number of tiny buttons which I longed to undo so very slowly, revealing the alluring corset I was certain lay underneath. I watched her lips move as she spoke, mesmerized by their fullness, and wishing with increasing impatience that she’d hurry up and finish her story.

“You’re not listening,” she said, stopping her narration abruptly, frowning and flashing her eyes at me playfully.

I started at being caught, and then smiled in chagrin. “I’m sorry. I seem to find your mouth more fascinating, at the moment, than your story.”

She chuckled softly and squeezed my hand. “Your attention does seem to wander at the oddest moments. Remember the Hoover incident?”

I frowned, feigning complete innocence. “I have no recollection of that.”

She laughed and smothered my face in kisses. “What a scoundrel you are my darling Michael. I’ve missed you so terribly.”

“And I’ve missed you,” I murmured against her cheek. “Would you mind so very much to postpone the rest of your story until later?”

She pulled back and smiled, lovingly tracing the contours of my face with her fingers, and pushing my cowlick back from my forehead. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Our bodies came together with tenderness and familiarity. I’d missed her more than I’d realized—her softness, the lushness of her feminine form, the gentleness of her touch, the contentment of being inside her, surrounded by her warmth, and giving her pleasure. There was a feeling of completeness with her lying in my arms.

“I love you. Never doubt that,” she whispered in my ear.

“And I love _you.”_

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**   
  


Biloxi, Mississippi was so tedious.

I stood on top of my cabinet in bare feet and watched the rain come down in torrents outside my tiny window. If the weather was clear, I could see the green grass of the grounds surrounding the hospital, the manicured shrubbery, shaped to perfection, the flitter of birds from the few trees scattered here and there in my view, and most importantly, the sun. But today, all I could see was fog, and even that was obscured by the water streaming down my window panes.

The trouble with Biloxi was that when the sun shone, it was miserably hot and the mosquitoes ate you alive the moment you stepped outside. And when the sun didn’t shine, it was miserably chilly and the mosquitoes still ate you alive the moment you stepped outside. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they managed to sneak into the hospital through every tiny crack in the wall and ate you alive while you slept. And that was just the mosquitoes. The cockroaches were worse.

_Tiresome. Tedious and tiresome._

“Ali, what are you doing?”

I whipped around to find Daniel leaning against the doorframe and grinning, his thick eyebrows pulled together in the cutest frown.

“Daniel!” I squealed, hopping down from the cabinet and launching myself across the room toward him. He grabbed me around the waist and swung me around in circles before returning my bare feet to the cold tiles. “I’ve missed you so much!!”

He laughed. “It’s only been four days.”

“It felt like forever, though. Did you get the bathroom finished?” I asked, plopping down onto my bed and getting comfortable. We had a lot of catching up to do.

“Almost. I finished the second layer of grout this morning, thank goodness. I’m getting tired of listening to Morgan complain about the dust, the smell, and just the noise in general. He’s grouchier than an old maid sucking on a lemon.”

I had to laugh because I could picture in my mind Morgan’s sweet frown and his adorable mutterings. He could be so incredibly serious at times, so much so that I’d dubbed him “Mr. Grumpy Lump” one day as a joke. Of course, he hadn’t found it half as funny as Daniel and I had.

“How far have you progressed with your assignment?”

I sighed. Of course he would bring that up. We spent the next hour going over my pathetic attempt to master oils, with Daniel inspecting every inch of my canvas and offering suggestions as to how to improve. The problem was that I was terrible at oil painting, just like I was terrible at portraiture, and absolutely horrible at sculpture. I did fairly well with watercolors and pastels, but sketching was my love—just a charcoal pencil and paper. It was such a simple medium, with no worries about depth of brush strokes, or the annoyance of tinting, or the importance of getting the right wash. I’d rather spend an entire day sketching my surroundings than one minute of dabbing globs of paint onto a canvas. But Daniel insisted it was important for an artist to explore every medium, because each one had something of value to teach me.

“Oils are the artistic equivalent of mathematics, as far as I’m concerned,” I announced with a stubborn pout that I was sure was going to get me into trouble, as it often did with Morgan.

One of Daniel’s eyebrows arched up sharply. “That’s an insult to oils.” Then a slow smile spread across his face and he snickered. “But I understand what you’re saying. And yes, I’ll concede that oils are definitely not your strong suit, but it’s important you work with them and learn as much as you can from them.”

I sighed and nodded.

“Speaking of mathematics…” Daniel cast his eyes down to the foot of my bed at the pile of textbooks that lay unopened and ignored. I’d been putting off my lessons all week in favor of sketching and daydreaming, wandering and exploring, and any other interesting thing I could find to while away my time.

“I don’t even want to contemplate Morgan’s reaction when he realizes your lessons aren’t completed. So, get busy,” he ordered sternly in that voice that let me know in no uncertain terms that my lazy days were over. Daniel was fun, most of the time, but when he wasn’t fun, he was extraordinarily annoying.

“Lessons are tedious,” I muttered, pouting. “And tiresome.” I sighed. “And torturous.”

He arched his eyebrow again. “Quit being theatrical and troublesome, and why are we talking in t’s?”

“I got bored and read the t section of the dictionary yesterday.” I giggled at his reaction.

He shook his head as both he and Morgan often did when they were frustrated with me. “There’s a word that describes you perfectly, and it doesn’t start with a t.”

“What?”

“Incorrigible,” he answered. “Now, get busy.”

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

“This is wonderful.”

Rhodes heaved a great sigh and sunk down even further into my arms. We lay beneath the sheet with our limbs tangled together and luxuriated in the lingering sensations of our lovemaking. It was at times like these that I missed the ability to sleep, to slowly fall into that drowsy state of oblivion that humans spoke of with such longing. Somehow, I felt that my relaxed vampire state, although very pleasant, fell far short of its human counterpart.

“I can’t believe he allows a picture of me to hang in your bedroom.”

I slid my gaze from her fingers, which were lovingly tracing imaginary lines up and down my arm, to the wall opposite where we lay. A large charcoal drawing of Rhodes sitting in a most unusual position with her hair obscuring her face and cascading down her legs, hung in prominent view of the bed. “He gave it to me as a gift not long after you left. What makes you think he wouldn’t approve?”

She sighed. “He’s upset with me.”

I shifted my body to the side so I could see her face. “Did you two argue?”

“Yes, a little. He’s angry at me for leaving you, and for hurting you.”

I should have known their conversation in the parlor hadn’t been as innocent as they’d both let on. I thought I’d sensed a tension in the air, but I’d hoped I’d been mistaken. “I’m sorry you had unpleasant words with him, but Daniel’s just being over-protective.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “You and I both know I’m the last person who needs anyone’s protection, but he insists on doing it, so I let him.” I shrugged, not sure what else to say about the matter. “I learned long ago that I prefer letting him have his way to fighting with him, especially if it’s something harmless that would hurt nothing but my pride.”

She sighed again. “It would be rather sweet if he wasn’t such an arrogant ass. How do you stand him??”

The laughter bubbled out of me as I imagined the scene between her and Daniel. I sorely regretted I hadn’t arrived home earlier to witness it. Daniel could be a prized ass when he wanted to be, but Rhodes could most assuredly hold her own against any man, him included.

“I’ll grant you that he is arrogant, and hot-tempered, and pig-headed. He’s bossy, and thinks he’s right about everything. He curses like a sailor and blasphemes on a daily basis. And when he wants something from you, he pesters the hell out of you until you start to wonder if ceasing to exist might be the only way to gain relief!”

She chuckled at my description, which eased my mind. The last thing I wanted was these two people, whom I loved so dearly, at each other’s throats.

“But there’s a tender side to Daniel that not everyone sees at first glance. He’s kind, thoughtful, and honest. He works hard. He’s loyal to you if you’re the same. He’s so gentle with children. Matthew worshipped him and Daniel was so patient with his unruliness. He’s just a good man. There’s none better. Just try to remember he’s very protective of those he loves, just as I am, just as we all are. His anger is borne out of love for me, not dislike of you. He’s quite fond of you, actually. He spoke well of your time together in Atlanta, and how much he enjoyed your company.”

She looked skeptical. “Really??”

“Yes, really. Even though you tried to seduce him.”

I laughed as she shot up out of bed, a look of shocked outrage on her face. “I did NOT try to seduce him!” she sputtered. “HE was the one who asked ME to take off all my clothes! I merely asked if he found my nude body attractive, and he assumed I wanted to bed him?? Not only is he arrogant, but he’s also incredibly narcissistic! The gall of that man! Does he think every woman in the world drools over his cocky ass??”

“Rhodes, it’s all right, really,” I said, in an attempt to smooth her ruffled feminine feathers, despite my extreme amusement over the whole thing. “But, I must say I’m rather disappointed you weren’t successful. The thought of the two of you together is quite… _intriguing._ ”

She laughed incredulously. “Intriguing?? You do realize I’d most likely rip his overgrown head from his shoulders before he could even finish the deed.”

I grinned. “I know. But still, I like the idea.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “It would be a cold day in hell.”

I laughed heartily, remembering Daniel’s similar sentiment. “He says that the devil will be shitting icicles before you find him in bed with a woman.”

“At least we agree on something,” she muttered.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

“Can I ask you something?” I’d been working for a solid hour while Daniel sat in the rocker and read a book. I needed a break from triangles and parallelograms before I felt compelled to yank out every hair on my head.

“Of course,” he said, marking his place in the book and turning his attention to me.

“Why are you here? You never visit me during the day.”

Despite his obvious discomfort, he told me. Morgan had a visitor, a woman. Lissa. Her name gave me the strangest feeling, like I’d heard it before.

“She visited you at Christmas when you were six. Do you remember her?”

I focused my mind in the past, and a vague memory resurfaced: a beautiful woman with indistinct features, and her clothes…

“She wore a pair of bloomers,” I mused softly. “I remember being excited at seeing them. I’d only seen them in magazines.” And with that memory, came more. “She bought me my very own pair for Christmas and Mrs. Filkins was so angry.”

Daniel chuckled. “Of course that fat cow would be angry because her flatulent elephant’s arse would never fit in them. She was just jealous.”

“Daniel!!” I crowed, pretending to be scandalized. Then the giggles came, and he laughed with me. Morgan would have glared at him for cursing, and scolded me for laughing, had he been here. I was glad, at the moment, that he wasn’t here, because I found Daniel’s vulgarity to be hilariously funny. He had so many wonderfully crass nicknames for Mrs. Filkins: Mrs. Fartkins and Mrs. Hippo Arse were my favorites.

“Do you remember anything else about her?” he asked hesitantly after my giggles finally dwindled to snickers.

I tried to bring her features into focus, but was unsuccessful. “I remember I was fascinated with her eyes, but I don’t know why. I just remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, besides my mother.”

Then a most disturbing thought occurred to me, and I found it interesting that it disturbed me. “Is she Morgan’s girlfriend?”

By gauging Daniel’s reaction, I knew the answer. His eyes slid to the floor and then quickly flicked back to mine. He nodded. “But it’s not what you think. She’s just visiting for a short while. They’re not betrothed or anything of that nature.”

Yes, the thought of Morgan with a girlfriend disturbed me, but I tried not to let it show to Daniel. It was just the fact that Morgan was mine, and had been for as long as I could remember. He'd been with me nearly every day since I’d arrived at this hospital. The idea of sharing him with this woman, Lissa, aroused the strangest feelings in me. I was angry, I realized, and jealous.

“Am I pretty?” I blurted out, quite surprised at hearing my voice speak the doubts that had been plaguing me for a long time.

Daniel frowned and looked quite puzzled by my question. “No. You’re not pretty at all.” He waited a few beats and then grinned slyly. “You’re a very beautiful young lady.”

I felt a blush heat my cheeks and smiled. _I’m beautiful._ I often looked at my reflection in the mirror and wondered. I knew Mary Grace was beautiful because Wills obviously adored her and had loved her enough to marry her and have children with her. But me? I had no way of knowing whether I was plain or pretty. There wasn’t an abundance of eligible young men running around the hospital giving out compliments, and Mrs. Filkins never passed up an opportunity to cluck over how plain I was compared to her granddaughter.

“Does Morgan think I’m beautiful?” As soon as I’d asked the question, I wished I could have taken it back. He tensed and was avoiding my eyes again. I had no idea why my question had made him uncomfortable, but I knew without a doubt that it had.

“You’ll have to ask Morgan that,” he answered quietly, and I couldn’t tell anything of his thoughts from his closed expression. Had I made him angry?

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” I offered softly.

He frowned and then finally smiled, shaking his head. “You could never upset me, Ali-Boo. Never. You can ask, or tell, me anything.”

 _Anything?_ Then perhaps now was a good time to tell Daniel about my latest secret. “If you need a girlfriend, I know someone who would be interested: Sarah, the head nurse in Ward 3. She’s sweet on you. I heard her talking about you to the other nurses. She thinks you’re…’beautiful, charming, and in sore need of an attentive wife’.”

His reaction was so comical I couldn’t hold back the laughter. One would have thought I’d just suggested he take up with Mrs. Filkins, such was his expression of shock.

“Uh…Alice…” he stuttered.

Daniel at a loss for words was something I didn’t see very often. I grinned, tickled at the thought of finally getting his goat. But even as I watched, he pulled himself together.

“Alice,” he started. Then he stopped, sighed and sat forward in the rocker, his hands clasped together tightly between his knees. “I have absolutely no need of a wife, and even though I’m flattered, and also touched, that you think enough of me to pass on this… _sentiment_ …that you… _overheard—_ “ He frowned in disapproval, and I knew he was gently chastising me for my pesky habit of eavesdropping on people. “—I don’t need any assistance in that area.” He frowned, and I stifled a giggle at his obvious discomfort. “I’m not very prized marriage material, in case you haven’t noticed.” Then he grinned crookedly, and the adorable and mischievous Daniel I loved so dearly reappeared. “I have a foul mouth and an even fouler disposition. Sarah would most likely toss me out on my… _beautiful_ …” I giggled when he winced over the word ‘beautiful’. “…arrogant arse before the honeymoon even started. You can ask Morgan. He ruminates almost hourly on my many faults and foibles.”

I _would_ ask Morgan the next time I saw him, and even if he agreed about Sarah, it would still be fun to tease Daniel about it. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know, and I’ll let Sarah know.”

His eyes narrowed into golden slits of light. “I know what you’re up to, you little guttersnipe. You’re avoiding doing your math. Now, enough of this silly talk and get back to work. You should have that assignment completed before you-know-who gets here tonight.”

I sighed. Back to triangles and parallelograms, which were utterly boring and useless. I couldn’t wait until Morgan arrived for work. I had a great many questions to ask him, none of which had to do with math.

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

Daniel met me at the front door of the hospital with one of his annoying cocky grins spread all over his face. I knew better than to ask the reason for it, so I strode past him and started up the hall. He was by my side in an instant, talking as we walked.

“I made Alice catch up on all of her assignments. She complained the entire time, and tried several diversionary tactics, but they all failed. She’s caught up and now she’s napping away her exhaustion.”

I nodded. “Good. She’s been procrastinating all week, and short of standing her in the corner, I was at a loss for what to do.”

“Try browbeating next time. It’s a fine art which I've honed to perfection,” he quipped, snickering.

“How well I know,” I muttered, rolling my eyes and hoping he saw it.

We walked in silence the rest of the way, until we reached the supply room. He leaned against the doorframe while I stocked my cart with patient supplies. “So…how was it?”

I stopped and glanced his way. “How was what?”

He grinned that cocky, sly grin again. “The reunion with Rhodes. How was it?”

“It was nice.”

“Just nice?” he asked, grinning crookedly and one eyebrow cocked halfway up his forehead.

I sighed. _Nosy bastard._ “It was _very_ nice.”

He snickered. “Is the bed still in one piece?”

I straightened and glared at him. “That’s personal and you’re being entirely too nosy.”

His golden eyes, which I normally found to be very compelling and beautiful, were spilling over with his characteristic mischief. It was fortunate for him that we were in public where a couple of well-placed kicks to the groin might cause a stir among the staff.

“So, it’s still in one piece.” He sighed theatrically. “I can see I’m going to have to give Rhodes some tips.”

I barked a soft laugh. “You do that. I imagine your bollocks would make for some very interesting Christmas bulbs on our tree this year. And, for your information, not everyone approaches lovemaking like it’s a best three-out-of-five wrestling match.”

He lowered his voice. “You’ve never complained,” he purred seductively.

“This is not the time or the place to be having this inappropriate conversation,” I said, lowering my voice to match his. I stacked the last of my supplies on the cart and started to push it past him. He blocked my way at the last moment.

“Wait. I need to talk to you.” He pushed the cart back inside the supply closet and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“What about?”

In the blink of a human eye, he was in front of me, standing so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. The mischief was gone from his eyes, replaced with that gentleness  I loved seeing in him. I had no time to wonder what was behind the sudden change in his demeanor before his lips gently pressed against mine.

“Daniel,” I whispered when he pulled away. “This is not the place for this.”

He ignored my gentle scolding. “You know she’s not going to stay.”

I nodded. “Yes. I know.” As much as it hurt to acknowledge it, I knew she would eventually leave, as she had before. Nothing had changed to make her stay.

“I’m going to go back to Atlanta while she’s here.”

I was surprised by my reaction to his announcement: hurt, sadness, and an intense feeling of loss. “You don’t have to do that.”

He nodded. “Yes, I do. You need this time alone with her, and although I’d love to stay, I simply cannot picture the three of us in bed together.” His half-hearted attempt at humor didn’t help matters one bit. It only served to exacerbate the impending loss.

“Strange, but I find that idea rather intriguing,” I said softly.

His expression was so humorous that I temporarily forgot about his leaving. His mouth dropped open in shock. “What??”

“Must I draw you a picture?” I quipped, smirking and thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

“You’re insane!” he sputtered. “I would never even consider…the idea is completely ridiculous and…and…disgusting…and…” His voice trailed off as he apparently ran out of suitable adjectives.

We stared at each other, me barely holding in the laughter and him eyeing me suspiciously.

“You’re serious?” he asked finally.

I shrugged and smiled. “It’s an interesting train of thought.”

“Then it’s a damned good thing I’m going back to Atlanta because my cock-loving arse is not riding on _that_ train!”

His vulgarity made me laugh, as it always did. He half-heartedly laughed with me, still unsure of whether I was joking or not.

“I’m going to miss you, Daniel.”

His eyes softened. “And I you. But I’ll come back on the weekends. This coming weekend we’ll celebrate Christmas together. How does that sound?”

I nodded. “It sounds nice.”

“I’ve left Alice with plenty to do, and she already knows I won’t be back until Friday evening.”

“Can you wait until after dinner to leave?”

Daniel smiled. “Chin up. When Rhodes leaves, I’ll come back and we’ll turn that bed into a pile of matchsticks.”

I laughed despite myself. “Sounds like fun.”

“I love you, Michael.”

“And I you.”

Another tender kiss and he was gone.

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

_**Friday morning, December 20, 1912** _

****

Only five more days until Christmas and I couldn’t wait to give everyone the gifts I’d made for them. As much as I’d complained when Morgan had made me read Shakespeare, I’d found his quatrains to be as much fun to write as they had been to read—so much so that I’d written one for everyone I knew. They were probably as horrible as my portraits, but I’d had fun writing them.

“Good morning, Alice.”

My blood froze at hearing my name. I remembered that voice, and although it had been so long since I’d spoken with him, it still gave me shivers. He scared me, and I knew it was because of something that had happened long ago, but I couldn’t remember what it was, and Morgan refused to talk about it.

“Dr. Soloman,” I murmured in acknowledgment of his greeting.

He shut the door behind him and walked over to my bed, staring down at me through his spectacles like I was a new and interesting species of bug he’d just discovered. His eyes gave me chills. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve…talked. I’ve been rather preoccupied with another patient of late and have neglected your care.”

His smile didn’t fool me. He didn’t care about me. He only cared about my visions and how he could “cure” them. Morgan and I had had many long discussions about this very topic, and he’d warned me to be extremely careful when talking about my visions with the doctors and nurses.

“Have you had any… _episodes_ …lately?”

“No.” Morgan had told me repeatedly that when you were lying through your teeth, it was always best to say as little as possible to avoid getting entangled in your own lies.

“Really? None??”

He didn’t believe me. “No.”

Then he just stared at me for the longest time. It was strange and very uncomfortable to feel his cold eyes moving over me so slowly, and not knowing what he was thinking. I tuned out the world around me and tried to focus on just him, without alerting him to the fact that I was attempting to “see” his future, but all I saw was a jumble of confusing images that made no logical sense.

“I’m going to move you into Ward 4 for awhile,” he announced, his voice soft and gentle as a mother crooning to her newborn child, but I wasn’t fooled. “There’s a very nasty infection working its way through the hospital and hitting the females the hardest. We need to… _quarantine_ …you and make sure you don’t have it.”

The images that had been so jumbled before now took on an alarming shape. I gasped aloud and scuttled backward on my bed to get away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

“You’re going to kill me!” I yelped.

As I shook with terror over what I’d seen, he stood by my bed and so very calmly watched me, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. “What a fascinating young lady you are,” he mused. “How do you know what I’m thinking? Are you able to read my thoughts? Tell me. How am I going to kill you? Through what method or means?”

I trembled. “Some sort of strange knife, and I’m strapped down on a gurney. There’s another doctor with you, and a nurse.”

“Incredible,” he whispered to himself, but I heard. He laughed and the sound made me so afraid. “I’m not going to kill you. I was merely testing a theory I have regarding your illness, and it appears I was correct. Somehow—and I intend to discover how you manage it—you are able to get inside of my mind and know my thoughts, my plans. So very intriguing…”

He sat down on my bed and I had nowhere to go to get away from him. His eyes moved slowly over my face, much like Daniel’s did when he was drawing my portrait. He wasn’t seeing me, he was examining me. Goosebumps rose up on my arms and raced to every part of my body. He reached out his hand and ran two cold fingers lightly across my jaw. I whimpered, frantically searching for a way to get away from him.

“You’re maturing into a very beautiful young woman,” he mused as he ran his fingers down my neck and on further down my arm, his eyes following in their wake. I wanted to get away from those eyes that were gazing at me in a way no man ever had. “Such a waste,” he whispered. “Such a terrible waste of beauty.” He shook his head. “I must discover the source of your illness so you can live a normal life.”

I tried to see what he had planned for me, but the images were jumbled again. It was as if he knew how to interfere with my ability, like he was purposely trying to fool me. “What are you going to do to me?” I blurted out, shaking.

His fingers touched my cheek again. I cringed away from him. “No man is going to want a woman with a defective mind to be his wife, or the mother of his children, so what I’m about to do to you won’t matter.”

And then he let me “see”. He showed me his plans and made sure I knew what was going to happen to me. I opened my mouth to scream, but a thick cloth that smelled sickly sweet smothered my attempts.

I faded away into darkness.

 


	51. Atrocity

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**Friday evening, December 20, 1912** _

 

Dark storm clouds had hovered over Biloxi all day as shoppers had scurried about their errands. Rhodes and I had been among the harried throng that had scuttled from store to store looking for the perfect Christmas gifts, while keeping a wary eye on the sullen sky. A bit of a downpour would have made my day brighter, as I could have probably convinced Rhodes to go home early, but the selfish clouds had refused to let loose of even a drop of their precious cargo, forcing me to spend the day shopping.

It was with much relief that I’d left Rhodes at home amid a haphazard pile of paper, boxes, bows and gaily wrapped packages, and started off toward the comforting familiarity of the hospital and Alice. I was strolling at a leisurely pace, having left early enough to have some quiet time to myself, when my progress was interrupted. “Hello, Daniel.”

I smiled smugly and never broke my stride, waiting patiently for him to suddenly appear and attempt to block my way with a frown on his beautiful face. Then, there he was, as predicted. And he was frowning, as predicted.

“Why can’t I sneak up on you?? I’m a vampire! I should be able to do that!”

It was good to see that dark head of hair, the strong jaw drawn tight, and those thick brows pulled together in his characteristic glower. I snickered and stepped around him, continuing on my way to the hospital. “I was looking over my shoulder centuries before you were even born, Daniel. No one can sneak up on me. Good try, though.”

“For once, I’d love to just scare the devil out of you and watch you jump from here to Jacksonville,” he muttered, as he fell into step by my side.

We strolled a bit in silence, which I knew wasn’t going to last very long. We hadn’t seen each other in a week and I was sure Daniel was suffering from having no one to argue with.

“So, how—?”

I interrupted him. “I’m fine. Alice is fine. Rhodes is fine. Everyone is fine. And the bed is still in one piece.”

He shot me one of his mischievous looks, arched a dark eyebrow and grinned. “Can you send Rhodes out on an errand in the morning?”

I laughed at the idea, and suggested a better one. “Why not just crawl in bed with us? We’ll make room for you.”

He sneered and rolled his eyes. “I’d rather lick the ass end of a hairy mule than get in bed with a woman. Good try, though.”

He smiled at my teasing, then laughed softly, and all was suddenly well in my world.

“I missed you,” I said, glancing to the side in time to see him staring fondly back at me.

“And I you,” he answered softly.

I smiled widely and set my sights on the hospital in the distance. I didn’t deserve all the happiness I had in my life, but I most certainly welcomed it. Contentment for me was having everyone I loved in the same city at the same time. If only Rhodes would stay, and Daniel wouldn’t leave, and Alice wasn’t held prisoner by her own gift, my world would be perfect.

* * *

 

As soon as I stepped foot inside the hospital, I was uneasy. Something felt wrong.

“Why is it so quiet?” Daniel asked softly.

 _He feels it, too._ The usual sounds that pervaded an insane asylum were still there—the random screams, the constant moaning, the sporadic cries for help—but the volume was noticeably lower, at least to our ears.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

There was only one patient in the hospital I was concerned about. I focused my senses in her direction and was relieved to hear her characteristic heartbeat right where it was supposed to be.

“Ali’s fine. I hear her,” Daniel said.

I nodded and kept a sharp eye as we started down the long hallway. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nurses passed, busy with their duties, and nothing alarming seemed to be afoot. But, that uneasy feeling still lingered.

“Her breathing’s regular,” Daniel observed, and then glanced at me with one eyebrow raised in surprise. “She’s sleeping? This early in the evening??”

That was odd, especially for our energetic Alice. The only time she stilled was when she was sketching or sleeping.

“Let’s check on her,” Daniel said before I could even open my mouth to speak the same words.

Just before we rounded the corner, someone whispered our names behind us. We turned to find Nurse Ruby poking her head out of a doorway and motioning frantically for us to join her.

“Hurry!!” she hissed softly.

Daniel and I exchanged curious glances. We had a silent conversation with our eyes on what to do. We were worried about Alice, but Nurse Ruby had roused our curiosity with her furtive behavior, which was so unlike her. My uneasiness turned to alarm after she ushered us inside the small supply room and shut and bolted the door behind her. She’d obviously been crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She lowered her voice. “I’m overstepping my authority by talking to you about this. Filkins will crucify me if she finds out. She doesn’t like any other head nurses interfering in her ward, but I had to come. I had to tell you about Alice before...” She left the rest of her sentence suspended in mid air.

An ice cold dread settled heavy over the small room. Daniel had gone still, his jaw clenched tight, his spine rigid. I was simply afraid. “I ask you again. What’s wrong?” I was confused, because Alice was in her room where she was supposed to be and apparently asleep.

Nurse Ruby burst into tears, making it impossible for her to answer. The panic rose up in me like a strong gust of wind. It ripped at my insides and tore me apart with its sharp edges.  _“What is it?!!”_ I snapped. My voice rang loud in the small room.

I felt Daniel’s tight grip on my arm, a silent warning to reign in my temper. He squeezed once, hard enough to make me wince, and then let go. “Ruby, what is it?” he asked her softly, his voice soothing and in stark contrast to mine.

She collapsed down upon a stack of crates and told us. “Apparently, Mississippi enacted a new policy for asylums all over the state.” Her hand flew to her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to hold back the tortured sob that escaped from behind it. Tears streamed down her face, but she swallowed hard and continued. “All women of childbearing age are to be sterilized, starting with the youngest. Alice’s womb was removed this morning.”

Time stopped for me that very moment. The horror of what she’d just said attacked my senses and shut everything down. I stood in my shoes feeling like a statue, unable to move, to speak, barely able to think and process what I’d just heard. My body was suddenly empty of everything normal. I was a shell, a vacuum. Rage slowly crept in to fill the void. I hardly noticed the crash of something beside me as Daniel unleashed his anger upon the room. Nurse Ruby continued to cry and seem as unmoved by his violence as I was. His foul curses ricocheted off the walls. He kicked at a crate and sent it flying across the floor, exploding the contents all over the tiles and our feet.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking _CROSS!!”_ His last curse, and then the room went quiet, except for Nurse Ruby’s soft crying.

“Is she all right?” I was surprised I’d spoken, and even more shocked at how normal I sounded.

She nodded. “The surgery went well. She’s resting in her room. That poor, sweet child. She loved children. She was so good with Mary Grace’s little ones. All she wanted was to have babies of her own, and now…” She clapped a hand over her mouth and fled the room sobbing, leaving fury and devastation behind her.

I had no idea why I was still standing in the middle of that room when I should have been running down the hall to check on Alice. For some reason, Matthew’s sweet face swam into focus, filling my mind with painful memories of the child I’d lost. _My baby. My precious son._ I still ached for him, yearned to hold him in my arms and feel his warmth, his energy, the love that poured out of him so freely. Alice would never experience that. She would never look upon a tiny face and see a part of herself looking back. My heart hurt so badly for her because I knew this atrocity that had been committed upon her innocent body would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Dear God in Heaven, why?” Daniel whispered in defeated anguish.

His words infuriated me once again. “Shut up about your idiotic god!” I snapped at him. “He’s worthless! Useless!”

He tried to stand tall and straight, but failed miserably. His shoulders spoke of surrender and his eyes held a sadness I hadn’t seen since Matthew’s death. “I’m beginning to believe you’re right,” he acknowledged quietly. “I’m going to check on her. Come with me.” He saw my hesitation, my abhorrent reluctance to leave the confines of the small room. “She needs us, Michael. She needs _you._ Come.”

Where was I going to find the strength to comfort her?

* * *

 

She was lying flat on her back, her blanket pulled up close beneath her chin, and staring at the ceiling. Daniel and I exchanged nervous glances. There was too much grief in his eyes, and I was sure there was too much rage in mine. We were just men—two men who loved this young woman more than life itself, but still, two men who had no idea what to say or do. Her body had been violated, her future ripped from her without a care. How did you fix a horror such as that??

Daniel whispered beneath his breath, reading my thoughts like an open book. “She just needs to know she’s loved. She was loved before, and she’s loved now. That’s all we can do.”

I nodded and moved to the side of her bed. She didn’t stir or even acknowledge me for the longest time. Daniel was at my side, a silent, comforting sentinel who gave me strength with just his presence. I regretted my earlier outburst, my attack on his god and his beliefs. His faith was his, not mine to tear down. I vowed to make that right at the earliest opportunity. I gathered my courage and spoke. “Alice.”

She blinked, but that was all. I was afraid to sit on the edge of her bed for fear of causing her more physical pain. I settled for leaning over her, and ventured to touch her chin, gently urging her to turn her head toward us.

She jerked away from my fingers. “Don’t look at me!”

The shame I heard in her voice ignited my anger, but I fought it. Now was not the time. I gently, but firmly, grasped her chin again and forced her to turn her head. Luckily, she didn’t resist. Her eyelids were so swollen from crying it was hard to see the emeralds that lay between them. Her alabaster skin was splotched and streaked with dried tears, her lips swollen and starting to crack with dryness. Her hair was plastered against her head, with strands of it sticking to her face, having gotten caught in her drying tears.

“I will never stop looking at you,” I said softly. “You’re the most beautiful thing in my world. You always have been.”

Her eyes strayed to mine and began to fill up with heartache. Her anguish spilled over and her crying began anew. They were silent tears; she fought her sadness as hard as I fought my violence. Neither one of us could win that battle.

“Ali, are you in pain? Do you need anything for it?” Daniel tenderly stroked her hair and tugged at the matted strands to loose them from her face.

She stretched her head just enough to meet Daniel’s eyes and nodded. “But I don’t want any opium. Not yet.”

“We both love you.” Daniel’s voice was thick with emotion. “You’re so precious to us and nothing could ever change how we feel about you. You know that, don’t you?”

She simply nodded. She shifted her gaze from Daniel to me. “I can’t ever have babies, Morgan,” she whispered tearfully.

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” I answered simply. I didn’t know what else to say. I was miserable from having failed, yet again, to protect her.

“Why did they do it?” she asked, looking to both of us for an answer.

I lacked the ability to see any farther than my own helpless anger. It was Daniel who understood the why of it all. “Remember how I told you people fear anyone who is different?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You have a gift they don’t understand. They put you in here because they think you’re ill, and you’re too dangerous to be around ‘normal’ people, which is not true. They didn’t do this just to you. They’re doing it to all the women in this hospital. They’re afraid, Alice. They don’t want any more people being born who aren’t normal, so they’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

She turned away and swiped angrily at her tears. “I wish I’d never been born with this stupid gift. I don’t want to be different anymore.”

“Oh, Ali.” Daniel sighed and reached for her hand. “I’ve wished that same thing many times in my life, but wishing for something that can never be is a waste of energy. We have to learn to live the life we’ve been given, no matter how much it hurts.”

Her carefully held composure crumbled. “No man is ever going to want me now! I’ll never get married like Mary Grace, because I can’t have children!” She covered her face and sobbed behind her hands.

I squeezed my eyes shut and searched for the right words to comfort her. Daniel’s reassuring hand on my shoulder helped me find them.

“Alice…” I tugged her hands away from her face and forced her to look at me. “There is a man out there for you—your soul mate. Remember when we talked about that? When you find him, none of this will matter to him. He’ll love you as you are. He’ll accept your faults, forgive your mistakes, and love you despite your failings. He won’t care that you can’t have children because he will have found the love of his life, and that’s all that will be important to him.”

She studied my face, watching for any indication that I was just giving her well-worn platitudes to make her feel better. I stared back at her boldly, willing her to see the truth in my eyes. I’d experienced such unconditional love with Asha, Daniel and Rhodes. It existed, but sometimes finding it was the hardest part. It saddened me that Alice’s search for that one person who would complete her would be longer than most.

“You promise?” She wanted so much to believe. Her eyes were tentatively hopeful.

“Yes, I promise. He’s out there, and you _will_ find him, Alice.”

She closed her eyes and turned her head from us. I glanced at Daniel and his face was unreadable, his golden eyes intently staring me down. He whispered, his lips barely moving. “He’s already here.”

My eyes narrowed as I scrambled for a suitable retort to his ridiculous observation. Even though she was technically a young woman, and rapidly approaching marriageable age, I still thought of her as a child. Daniel spoke as if our future was already decided, when it was far from it. Alice had her own mind, and I planned on letting her make her own decisions without any undue influence from me. I was _not_ going to control her life. I opened my mouth to tell him that he was full of stuff and nonsense, when Alice spoke.

“I don’t like Dr. Solomon,” she said quietly. “He scares me.”

I tore my gaze from Daniel’s, making a silent vow to address this issue later, and turned my attention back to Alice. Just hearing her say that doctor’s name made my skin feel like it was crawling with insects. I sensed, rather than saw, Daniel’s body tense beside me.

“Why does he scare you?” I asked curiously.

“The way he looks at me,” she answered. “And the things he says.” She visibly shivered.

I froze. So, Daniel asked the question I seemed unable to get past my lips. 

“What did he say to you?” Daniel asked, and his voice was so calm.

How did he do that? How could he turn his anger on and off so easily, like those switches that controlled our newfangled electric lights? I didn’t trust myself to utter a single word. Alice seemed reluctant to answer, and afraid to look at us. Daniel persisted, his voice soft and soothing, until she finally acquiesced.

She spoke in a whisper, as if afraid someone would overhear. “He said I was maturing into a beautiful young woman. He told me after I woke up he was going to give me time to heal, but after that, he was going to show me how beautiful I was, and that it was safe now, because of the surgery. Then he touched me…here.” She laid her palm on her left breast and a tear streaked silently down her cheek.

The demon crashed through the wall inside of me, thrashing about and screaming obscenities, tearing at the civility of my mind in fury, turning me into the monster I’d been after Asha’s death. And I let him. Before I knew what was happening, Daniel was in front of me, blocking her view, with his crushing steel grip holding me fast by the arm.

“Michael!!” he hissed, soft enough that Alice didn’t hear. “Control yourself!”

I ripped my arm out of his grip, leaving shreds of my cotton shirt in his fist, and fled the room. If Solomon was here, he was breathing his last breaths. I barreled down the hallways as fast as possible, my senses reaching out to all corners of the hospital, searching for my prey—his pathetic human heartbeat, his filthy smell, or the sound of his despicable voice.

One word was all it took for me to zero in on my target. He was in Ward Four talking to someone about a patient. I tuned out everything around me and opened my arms to the hungry demon who was now in control. I welcomed him, embraced him and thrilled at the thought of what lay ahead: beautiful death, ripping and tearing of flesh, crushing of bone, and blood everywhere, especially in my throat. Pure joy.

Suddenly a brick wall slammed into me hard from behind and threw me out a side exit door. I catapulted through the night air and gathered my wits enough to land on my feet in the damp grass. I snarled viciously and turned to face my attacker: Daniel. He was crouched in front of me, his eyes cautious and watching my every move.

“You need to calm yourself, Michael.”

His soothing voice had no effect on the demon. I pushed past him, shoving him hard against the concrete steps. I apparently hurt him, but his soft cry of pain meant nothing to me. My hand just made it to the door handle when I was attacked again from behind, dragged with inhuman force down the steps fighting and kicking, and thrown against the outside wall of the hospital. I was stunned, but only for a moment, just long enough for Daniel to effectively pin me to the bricks. I yelped in pain. His fingers digging into my shoulders felt like butcher knives slicing through bone. His body pushed against mine like the weight of a thousand cement blocks.

“Let go of me!!” I snarled through clenched teeth, fighting to free myself from his crushing weight.

“You can’t do this!” he screamed in my face. “Think of Alice! You do this and you’re gone! They’ll hunt you down like a dog and arrest you! Alice will be left alone in this shit hole! _Think Michael!!_  Think of the consequences of what you’re about to do!”

The demon inside of me had no tolerance for reason. Death and blood, food and pleasure, were all it cared about. I curled my lip and spoke slowly enough for him to understand. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

I saw fear in his golden eyes for the first time. _Fear is weakness,_ the demon whispered inside my head.

“No! You can’t do this, Michael! Not here! Not tonight!!”

“Let go of me or I’m going to hurt you!!” I screamed back in his face.

I struggled beneath him and managed to plow a fist hard into his side. He cursed and called me foul names as I kicked viciously at his shins with enough force to bring anyone else to their knees. But the bastard was strong. He kept his feet, but he was on the verge of losing his temper. I recognized the impending signs. His eyes seemed to shift from a warm, soothing gold to a piercing yellow as bright as a noonday sun, even as I watched. His dark pupils were daggers, stabbing me with fury everywhere they landed. He growled viciously and closed his hand around my throat, crushing my windpipe closed and making it nearly impossible for me to speak. I fought him, kicked him, tore at his arms with my fingernails. My singer was in danger and this bastard was trying to stop me from protecting her!

“I’m going to kill you!” I croaked. He tightened his grip on my throat and completely cut off my ability to speak.

Then pain exploded inside my head as he slammed my skull against the brick wall, over and over again. I felt, and heard, brick and mortar crumbing beneath the onslaught. “You…stupid…stubborn…idiotic…hard-headed… _BASTARD!!_ ” he screamed, slamming my head against the bricks after every furious word. “Quit…thinking…of yourself…and think…of… _ALICE!!”_

He shoved my head harder and harder with every word. My fury was forgotten beneath the horrendous pain that splintered my skull like cracks in an old sidewalk. The last word—Alice’s name—was the final blow. It was vicious, and the excruciating agony from it drove the demon back behind his wall for good. I collapsed against Daniel and fought to stay upright on my feet. I groaned in pain and held onto him until I felt the insanity inside of me subside.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” He babbled his apologies to me over and over as he held me in his strong arms. “I couldn’t get through to you. I’m so sorry, Michael. I didn’t want to hurt you, please believe me. But you wouldn’t listen. I had to do something. I’m sorry. God, I’m such a damned brute! I hurt you.”

I managed to find the strength of will to speak. “Daniel, stop. All is well.”

When I could stand on my own, he let go. He gently pushed at my cowlick, his golden eyes warm again. “He’s not going to bother her until she’s healed. We have time.” Our eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between us.

“What about Rhodes?” I asked. I had no idea how she was going to react to all of this.

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter whether she objects or not. It’s going to be done.”

I smiled. There was a beacon of light at the end of this horrendous tunnel after all. I was going to kill Dr. Solomon, and no one, including Daniel, was going to do anything to stop me.

 


	52. Starting to Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much searching, I finally found a picture that fit my mental image of that old hag, Mrs. Filkins. LOL She's in the new story banner.

**~ DANIEL ~**

_**pre-dawn hours of Saturday, December 21, 1912** _

 

She was waiting for me, studying me from the other side of the room while I hung my coat by the door. “You’re back early.” I turned to face her and she immediately knew something was wrong. “What’s happened?”

Dejected, my voice flat and void of emotion, I told Rhodes of the atrocity committed against Alice. She flinched, but I continued undeterred as I related the sickening, perverted intentions of her doctor, as well as the violent scene between Michael and I that had erupted out of Alice’s sickbed confession.

“He’s going to kill Dr. Solomon, and I fully support him in that decision.”

Rhodes’ lips thinned. “No, he can’t!” She whirled around, turning her back to me in angry defiance.

“And frankly,” I said to her stiff back, “I don’t give a damn whether you approve or not, and neither does Michael. If he had refused to kill him, _I_ would have. The man deserves to die.”

She whirled back around. “Do you think I care about the doctor??” She sneered, shaking her head. “You don’t know anything about my mortal life, but rest assured, I hold no love in my heart for abusive men. I’ve been a victim. I had my whole life ripped from me by an evil and controlling man. This doctor’s death doesn’t bother me. It’s Michael’s _life_ that concerns me! It’s Michael’s life that should concern _YOU!_ The last thing he needs is to start that kind of killing again, and you shouldn’t be encouraging him!”

“I am _not_ encouraging him, I’m supporting him!” I shouted. “And this is not the same thing as before, when he slaughtered innocent people! He’s killing someone who deserves it, Rhodes! _He’s protecting Alice!!”_

As the echoes of my tirade faded, she surprised me by smiling sadly. “Exactly. He’s protecting Alice,” she said softly. “But he’s not just protecting her. He’s killing for her now. Surely you know what that means?”

“I’m not stupid. I know what it means,” I replied, just as softly. I knew what Michael was refusing to admit to himself, that he was already in love with the woman Alice was destined to become. I knew he was slipping through my fingers. I knew Alice’s loss had cemented his feelings for her, and I also knew that his guilt over not protecting her had only strengthened his resolve to stay near her.

“He’s going to do this with or without our approval, Rhodes. We can’t stop it. Well, perhaps we could, but I’m not willing to exert the physical effort needed to do it. And without my help, you can’t stop him either. So, I’m making a choice. I’m choosing to be there for him, to support him. And of course, you’re going to do what you always do: leave when he needs you the most. But you are _not_ going to leave until after the holidays or I will hunt you down and make you regret it. You’re going to stay in Biloxi and help him deal with this, whether you want to or not. Do I make myself clear?”

She met my gaze, and the sadness in her expression felt like a dagger in my side. “Do you really think I need to be threatened into caring for Michael? I love him just as you do, and I always will, just like you will. I’m going to leave, yes, but I won’t until I’m satisfied he’s all right.”

I nodded my approval. That was all I asked, that she not walk out right in the middle of his pain. I regretted the threat, but it was too late to take it back.

“And when I leave this time,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “I’m never coming back.”

* * *

 

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**Saturday, January 18, 1913** _

 

“Look at these, Michael. Aren’t they incredible?”

Alice’s drawings were laid out all over the floor of the parlor, so many that I would be hard pressed to find an empty spot in which to place my foot had I the desire to walk across the room, which I didn’t. I was rooted to my spot by the doorway, mesmerized, stunned by the beauty before me. The floor was covered with pictures of women in dresses and bloomers, drawings of hats, shoes, and all manner of feminine finery, all wrought in charcoals, intricately detailed and with hints of color here and there.

“So many,” I whispered, awed.

Daniel turned his gaze to me, his expression thoughtful. “She’s working things out.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “In here…and here,” he said, pointing to his heart. “She’s starting to heal, and her talent is helping her to do that.” He looked back at the floor littered with the colorful fragments of Alice’s wounded soul. “This is all she does when she’s not doing your assignments. I’ve stopped even trying to get her to do anything else, but I understand her obsession. Drawing has always helped me cope with the bad things in my life. There’s just something about the creative process that is very comforting to the soul.”

I thought back to all the times I’d watched Daniel draw in silence, his charcoal and paper the conduit for the emotion raging within him. What he probably hadn’t realized was that watching had been just as comforting as drawing.

“Why do the figures look so…?” I found I could not locate the appropriate adjective to describe what I was seeing. The women who were wearing her hand-drawn clothing were quite unusual. Their bodies were elongated to the point of being unrealistic. No women I knew had legs that long, or waists that tiny, even with the tightest corset.

Daniel smiled, beaming with pride over his young protégé. “Alice sees the world differently from you and I, Michael. I draw and paint exactly what I see with my eyes, what’s real. Alice draws what she sees in her mind and imagination. These figures weren’t meant to look realistic. They’re very….” He stopped, obviously searching for his own appropriate adjective. “…stylized,” he said, pleased he’d found the right word. I agreed with him. They were very stylish even to my untrained male eye. Daniel shook his head and clucked with admiration. “For such a young girl, her talent is staggering. She must do something with it. This much skill simply cannot go to waste.”

I expressed my regret that she was virtually a prisoner in the hospital. Under completely different circumstances—in a completely different life—she would be in Atlanta with Daniel, helping him with his business, honing her skills and learning all about the art world. Instead, she was in an asylum, captive to a sadistic nurse and a depraved doctor who both hurt her without a care.

Daniel gathered her drawings from the floor and arranged them carefully in a neat pile on the kitchen table. I joined him when he sank down in the straight-back chair and sighed. “I need to find a venue to show her work. I know a couple of places in Atlanta that might be interested, but it wouldn’t hurt to find something closer to home. The right people need to see these, but unfortunately, those people don’t live in this bug-infested swamp you call home.”

The opportunity I’d been waiting for had accidentally fallen into my lap. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in that area when I go to Jackson next week.”

His head shot up, eyes narrowing. “You’re going to Jackson?”

I smiled. “Medical convention.”

Daniel sat up in his chair, eyes alert and glistening. “You’re going to do it. Finally.”

I met his intense, golden gaze. “Yes. He’s going to be there three days, or perhaps less,” I said, smirking.

A pleased grin overtook Daniel’s face. “I want to go with you.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

I watched Daniel’s predictable stubbornness rise to the surface like the bubbles in a gurgling stream. His golden eyes took on a hard sheen of burgeoning anger. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t treat me like I’m a child. I watched you kill in Romania. You know how I feel about it.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a husky whisper. “You know I like it. Take me with you, Michael. I want to watch.”

I was shocked at knowing he’d witnessed the killings of the defective newborns in Romania. I’d never sensed his presence, never known he’d watched me murder so many innocents, their only sin being reborn useless through no fault of their own. It was disturbing, even at this late date, and yet, I felt a strange and morbid sense of pleasure at knowing he found this part of me attractive. One could wonder who was the more perverted, me or Dr. Solomon?

I explained the necessity of going alone, that the risk of detection would increase if he were by my side. He argued back that if anything went wrong, he would be there to assist. I railed back at him that I killed better alone and in no uncertain terms was he going with me. He shot up from the table and paced the room, cursing me for being a controlling arse who was hell bent on treating his mate like he was a babe in arms.

“I’m not that innocent little boy you seduced in England back in 1641, Michael!! I’ve lived long enough now to know there are people in this world who need killing! Stop treating me like one of Alice’s porcelain dolls!”

My mouth dropped open. “I seduced you? Innocent?? Your memory is as short as that appendage between your legs. I seem to recall you pestering the hell out of me in that tavern until I finally left with you. When we got to your house, you couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough. You were on your knees at my feet quicker than a duck on a June bug, as the saying goes around here.”

Daniel stopped his pacing and frowned. “When did this conversation become about swiving? We were talking about you always treating me like I’m a babe still in nappies, and your complete and utter stubbornness in all things having to do with me. And what did you just say about my cock??”

I fought the urge to smile. “I believe I mentioned its length being in proportion to the accuracy of your memory.”

The chuckle didn’t even make it out of my throat before I found myself slammed against the wall. Only when I protested that he was tearing up his own renovations to my kitchen did he lessen his grip around my neck. We were nose-to-nose, close enough for me to see the humorous glint in his beautiful golden eyes. He wasn’t angry, but I’d learned never to trust him when he got that particular look.

“I could always snap off a bit of yours and make us even,” he suggested, grinning.

“As long as you kiss it first,” I said, smirking.

He barked a laugh and took a step back, releasing my neck and studying me. “Nice try at changing the subject, but I still want to go,” he said earnestly.

I sighed. “I know you do, but I don’t want you to see this side of me. This is going to be much different from Romania. I’m going to enjoy this. It’s going to be brutal and bloody. You’ve never seen this level of violence in me, and I don’t _want_ you to see it no matter how much you profess to enjoy watching it. Besides, I need you to stay behind with Alice. She gets upset when I’m gone for long periods of time. I won’t have to worry about her with you here. Please,” I implored softly. “Please let me go alone.”

I’d found the perfect reason to keep him in Biloxi. He growled softly beneath his breath and visibly deflated. “Fine. I’ll stay here. But it would have been so…” He gave me such a sad look that I immediately felt guilty, like a parent who had, in a fit of anger, whipped the wrong child. But perhaps I could throw him a small bone…

“What if I bring the killing to _you?”_ I asked.

His eyebrow shot up, his eyes suddenly alert. “I’m listening.”

I took a step closer until we were mere inches from each other. “After I kill him, I’ll come straight here. I won’t throw away my clothes or wash his blood from my skin. I’ll let you take care of that for me,” I whispered.

A smile blossomed on his luscious, full lips. “Is it next week yet?”

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

I was just putting the last touch of color to my latest drawing when I sensed a presence at my door. A familiar warmth stole through me, because I knew who it was without even looking. I looked up and there he was, just as I knew he would be, just as he’d always been. I spoke my customary greeting, managing not to squeal like I used to when I was younger. I was twelve years and two months, much too old to bounce on my bed and screech his name, but that didn’t mean I was any less happy to see him.

“Morgan.”

He smiled that gentle smile that I’d grown to love through the years, and spoke my name in return. “Alice.”

When my name passed his lips, I felt safe, loved. He entered the room and stopped just short of my bed, standing at attention with his hands tucked behind his back and that cute lock of unruly hair dipping down over his forehead. He looked so serious.

“I fear I must apologize to my queen,” he said formally. “I’ve done my liege a grave disservice.”

I stifled a giggle and fell naturally into the role of Queen Mary Alice. We’d playacted like this for as long as I could remember, and I loved it as much now as I had then. I sighed dramatically. “What has my subject done now?”

“I’ve wasted so much time trying to get you to appreciate the subtlety and beauty of mathematics. It’s been brought to my attention that your talents lay elsewhere. I regret it sorely and hereby declare that from this day forward I will no longer require you to recite and expound upon the laws of Newton or demonstrate your detailed knowledge of Archimedes’ formulae.”

“Really??” I asked in disbelief, temporarily slipping out of character. Then I hurriedly cleared my throat and raised my chin. “Your queen is grateful, as she is much too busy with other pursuits to bother with such unimportant things as dreary old numbers. Especially since your queen has yet to use a single one of Archimedes’ dreary old formulas in her daily life, nor does she think she will ever use one. And why does a queen need to know Newton’s Dreary Laws, I ask you? Come to think of it, why does a queen need to know dreary geometry or dreary physics or—“

“Aliiiice…” His annoyed interruption made me giggle. Teasing Morgan was one of the joys of my life. I loved being the reason for those furrows crinkling across his forehead. “Just because you’re my queen doesn’t mean your loyal subject can’t stand you in a corner for an hour or two,” he said, trying to appear stern and failing miserably. When he realized his “queen” wasn’t suitably frightened at his threat of punishment, he relaxed and stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. “Daniel showed me your drawings this afternoon. They’re stunning. I’m humbled by your talent. I’ve never seen such skill in one so young, and he agrees.”

He complimented me on my various designs and told me in great detail what he liked about each one. His favorite was the blue/green dress with the off-center bow at the waist. He said he could easily see me in it, that the colors would compliment my fair skin and dark hair. I felt a blush steal up my neck and creep into my cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m embarrassing you,” he said softly, touching one cool finger lightly against my cheek. “You’re blushing.” He quickly dropped his hand and stepped back, gracefully folding his slender frame into his usual chair. I could still feel the coolness where his skin had touched mine. “I wanted to let you know that I will be out of town for several days next week, a doctor’s appointment,” he said, his stern voice returning. “But Daniel will be here with you every day while I’m gone.”

“Are you ill?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m quite well. It’s just a routine visit.” He glanced away for a moment and then quickly looked back. “And how are you feeling?”

I was a lot better than I was a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel the same again. Some days I felt like a different Alice, like the little girl I used to be had died and now there was this strange new person living inside of me. But I didn’t know how to explain that to Morgan, so I smiled my best brave smile and told him I was better, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Has he been to visit you?”

I nodded. Morgan and I had this same conversation every evening. He greeted me, talked to me about something random for awhile and then, without fail, he’d ask me if Dr. Solomon had been to see me. He never said his name. Never. But I knew who he meant. Morgan’s face always went blank when we talked about Dr. Solomon; his strange eyes always turned dark and cold.

“’Two more weeks’. That’s what he said. What does that mean?”

His body tensed; a bone clenched in his jaw. I recognized the signs from years of watching him. He was upset, but I didn’t understand why. I was afraid to ask. “I’m sure he meant that in two more weeks your incision will be fully healed and you’ll be able to get up and move around more. Regardless, things will get better for you soon. I promise.” He managed a small smile and then stood. “In the meantime, I have duties to attend to. I’ll return for your evening meal.”

He made to leave, but then stopped and turned at the door. “I’ll expect you to recite and expound upon Newton’s Law of Inertia during our lunch.”

“But you said I didn’t have to—“

He smiled and winked. “I was only joking. Mathematics is just as important as your art, contrary to what Daniel tells you. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I waited until I was sure he was gone and then stuck my tongue out at the empty doorway. Sometimes Morgan was extremely irritating, but then other times, he wasn’t…

I touched my cheek, remembering. 


	53. Coming Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After months and months with no updates, and very little enthusiasm on my part to write any, I made the decision to stop updating both of my last remaining Twilight works in progress, including this one. This story has always been more like an epic novel than a mere fanfic. (It’s currently at 523 pages in Word, and a little over 200,000 words.) I so deplored SM’s version of Alice’s backstory, that I felt compelled to write it all from scratch, beginning with her childhood and continuing through her meeting Jasper in that diner. That was a monumental undertaking and, in hindsight, an unreasonable goal to have set for myself. There is so much in-depth plot left unwritten for this story, that to get to a definitive ending I would have to write at least 20 additional chapters, probably more, considering how much of a word h00r I am. I cannot realistically see myself doing that, because the motivation (and the time) is just not there anymore. 
> 
> So, what I have decided to do (because of requests from readers who care) is to post a series of isolated scenes which have been written for years, and were sitting patiently in my files waiting for me to write my way to them so they could be inserted. These are the important key scenes in the story, the major milestones that were meant to strongly push the plot forward. (But a couple of them just have a special place in my heart.) I will provide a short summary before each scene/chapter to familiarize you with the unwritten events that led up to that scene. 
> 
>  
> 
> The posted chapters prior to this one established two plot points: 
> 
> 1) Dr. Solomon was going to be murdered by Morgan for sterilizing Alice and for hinting that he was going to use her for his sexual pleasure after the surgery. I never intended to write that murder scene, and instead had it happen “off stage” and just referred to in conversation with Daniel. Morgan is never under suspicion for the crime. (The local papers dubbed the killer “The Jackson Ripper” because of the extreme violence and gore at the crime scene). Alice is once again safe, at least for the time being.
> 
> 2) Alice is developing romantic feelings for Morgan. Conversely, Morgan’s feelings for her are slowly starting to change as well, regardless of how much he denies it to Daniel. 
> 
>  
> 
> This scene takes place in 1915, two years in the future from the time of the last chapter I posted. Alice is a precocious 15-year-old, but Morgan, despite being an ancient vampire with centuries of life knowledge under his belt, is completely unprepared for what she’s going to ask him. (Bless his heart. Lol He really should have seen this one coming.)

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**1915** _

 

The first few minutes after my arrival at work were always spent locating Alice. This evening was no different. She was never where she was supposed to be anymore, hadn’t been for years. She only used her room for sleeping and lessons now; all other times she wandered the hospital or the grounds. I never thought I’d say it, but I sorely missed the days when she was small and underfoot, and I knew exactly where she would be when I walked in the building. I yearned to hear that tiny heartbeat again, soft at first and then thrumming louder as I made my way to her room. I remembered her long hair with fondness, and how that dark waterfall used to hide her beautiful profile as she studiously worked over her lessons or drawings. I mourned the loss of her enthusiastic, eardrum-shattering squeal of my name every time I entered her room. I even missed the days when we’d play Queen and Subject, and she’d shamelessly try to use her pretend rank— along with her very real charm—to manipulate me into letting her skip her lessons or stay up later than her usual bedtime. That Alice was easy to understand, her emotions an open book that even I could read. But the fifteen-year-old version of that sweet little girl too often left me perplexed and frustrated, her moods shifting erratically from serious to teasing to pouting immaturity, and everything in between, sometimes all in the space of a few minutes.

I found her on the upstairs balcony, the place she always went when she needed fresh air to clear her mind, the place where she went to think. She stood at the railing with her back to me, looking out over the grounds that surrounded the hospital. Her light green linen dress clung to her body in the most delightful way, accentuating her curves and telling anyone who cared to notice that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Her short hair, which barely touched her shoulders now, twirled and flipped gently with the intermittent breeze that blew in from the coast. Someone who had only a superficial relationship with Alice would see a quiet, serenely composed young woman staring peacefully out at the horizon. But I knew her heart; I’d seen into her soul many times during the turmoil and pain of the past few years. Something was wrong.

“Your loyal subject requests permission for an audience.” I stood just inside the paned-glass doors waiting to see if she would fall into her role of Queen. We hadn’t played this childhood games in years, and I missed it.

She sighed expansively and continued to stare off into the distance. “Which of my loyal subjects has the audacity to interrupt the Queen while she’s deeply contemplating the difference between a linear and an exponential function?”

I smiled at her question, though she didn’t see it. “That would be Morgan Grant, Your Majesty,” I answered, striving to sound serious and not burst out into laughter. Alice loathed algebraic functions, and I could barely get her to “contemplate” them—even for a few minutes—during her math lessons, let alone in her spare time.

“I grant you an audience,” she stated formally.

In three strides I was by her side at the railing, staring off into the distance just like her. I might have felt her eyes on my face as I pretended to enjoy the view, but if I did, it was only for a few seconds. 

“That dress looks lovely on you.” I hazarded a glance at her profile. There was a small smile dancing at the corner of her mouth.

“I should have you drawn and quartered for even noticing my attire. The brazen effrontery in peasants these days is quite disturbing,” she said, sniffing haughtily.

I chuckled softly, even at the risk of my body being ripped apart by her imaginary horses. “If you kill me, there will be no one left with the courage to tell you how beautiful _those_ are.” I sighed wistfully, looking down at her feet. “The ankles that launched a thousand ships…”

She dropped the queen pretense and gazed down at her foot, studying it, turning it this way and that, contemplating the tiny bit of delicate of bone that formed her ankle. She looked up, frowning. “How can a piece of bone covered by skin be beautiful?? It’s just an ugly lump sticking out.”

Of course, it wasn’t women’s ankles that were beautiful so much as it was the mystery of what lay above them: the long legs and creamy thighs hidden beneath their dresses. But I certainly wasn’t going to tell _her_ that.

“Have you looked at Mrs. Filkins’ ankles lately?? Now those are ugly lumps.”

Alice giggled, and the sound warmed my heart. “The ankles that caused a thousand apoplexies.”

We shared a shameless few moments of laughter at our dear Mrs. Filkins’ expense, then she grew quiet again.

“Is there something bothering you, Alice?”

She didn’t answer immediately, leaving me to wonder just how bad this was going to be. 

“What’s a coming out party?” she asked finally. “Mrs. Filkins’ oldest granddaughter is having one this weekend and, of course, the spiteful old hag couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tell me that I would never have one. But she didn’t say why.”

I ignored Alice’s name-calling, as I no longer cared to admonish her for speaking the truth about that woman’s behavior. Spiteful old hag was the least of what Mrs. Filkins was. But regardless of my leniency, I filed the bitch’s hurtful comment away in my mind, the latest in a very lengthy list of transgressions she’d committed upon Alice’s body and soul throughout the years.

I explained to Alice that a coming out party was a formal way of introducing young women, or debutantes, of marriageable age to society in general, and to local suitors, specifically. The opulence of the parties depended upon the wealth of the families. They could be held outdoors—small garden parties—or inside in lavish ballrooms. There was lots of food, music, and dancing. Every unmarried male in the community would be in attendance, hoping for an introduction and a dance with the debutante or perhaps even steal a kiss, if he got really lucky and she liked him.

Alice spat out a harsh, bitter sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “I guess Mrs. Filkins wasn’t just being a spiteful old hag after all, was she? She was right. I won’t ever have a coming out party. No man wants to marry a girl who’s insane and who can’t give him children.”

The pain I heard in her voice cut straight to my heart, because it was true, and that was what hurt. She wasn’t ever going to have a coming out party of her own, a beautiful new ball gown, the attention of handsome young men, all of which infuriated me, because she deserved to be happy, to have the life she wanted.

“And I’ll never be kissed, either,” she whispered, probably thinking I hadn’t heard her, but I had. What could I say to comfort her? I could say I was sorry, but that wouldn’t do. Alice didn’t want anyone’s sympathy.

“One day you will have the life you want,” I said softly. “Your future is out there somewhere waiting for you. Don’t ever stop searching for it.”

She didn’t even acknowledge that I’d spoken, but continued to stare thoughtfully out into the distance. I stared with her, wondering if she was seeing the darkening sky spread out before her, or a future that lay out of her reach.

Suddenly she whipped around and leaned back against the railing. Her pensiveness was gone, her mood shifting as quickly as the wink of a human eye. A mischievous, but determined, gleam shone in her vivid green eyes. “I want you to do something for me, Morgan.”

“Anything,” I blurted out without thinking.

She stood up straight, proud, with chin held high, but even then her head would still fit underneath my own chin. She was so small and delicate on the outside, but I knew her to be incredibly brave on the inside, one of the strongest human beings I’d ever known, along with Daniel.

“Kiss me,” she demanded softly and without hesitation.

I took a step back, stunned. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t!

“I want to know what it feels like to kiss a man.”

I stared at her, trying to find my voice, searching for right words to say that wouldn’t hurt her even more. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that,” I finally said. “I’m an employee of this hospital. To engage in that type of behavior with a patient would be extremely unethical…and just wrong.”

Her emerald eyes hardened into a glare. “Fine, then. I’ll just get Joseph, the day orderly, to do it. He won’t say no.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. I suddenly felt like a freshly-caught fish that had been tossed onto the river bank to die a slow death: exposed and helpless on the ground, gasping for air and trying to flop its way back to the water. But there was another emotion wrapping itself around me as I floundered for a reaction: jealousy. “Joseph is an old man!” I sputtered indignantly. The thought of that decrepit, smooth-talking scoundrel touching Alice enraged me beyond all reason.

She rolled her eyes at me disrespectfully. “My goodness, Morgan. He’s not _that_ old. You make him sound like he’s got one foot in the grave already.”

My first impulse was to unceremoniously stuff her into the nearest corner and make her stand there until she learned to behave like a mature young lady. Rolling her eyes? Threatening to kiss strange men as if her reputation meant nothing?? Asking _me_ to do it??!

“I’d rather it be you.” She raised her chin with a stubborn defiance that was all too familiar to me. “But if you won’t, then I _will_ ask Joseph.”

I knew that determined look; she wasn’t going to be talked out of it. _Damnation. You can’t do this._ It had taken a new kind of willpower for me to get used to her scent after she’d physically became a woman. I’d finally gotten comfortable with her new mouth-watering allure, and now she was asking—no, she was _demanding_ —that I tear down all of my progress and risk her very life, just for a fleeting moment of pleasure. I absolutely refused to do it.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

To my dismay, her mood shifted yet again. “So, I’m not attractive enough to kiss,” she stated, her voice trembling.

 _She’s very skillfully painting you into a corner._ I instantly regretted that suspicious thought. Alice wasn’t a manipulative person by nature, and the glimmer of tears in her eyes was real, not affected. She truly thought herself too unattractive to kiss.

“First off, that is absolutely not true, and is certainly _not_ the reason I refuse to do as you ask,” I stated firmly.

“Then what is it?” she demanded, her mood swinging once again from hurt to indignant.

 _It’s because I love you dearly, and I would never forgive myself if I hurt you. It’s because you deserve better than me._ “It’s because you wouldn’t find it pleasurable. It’s my medical condition. My hands stay cold all the time, you know that. My mouth is no different. Kissing me would be like kissing that icebox down in the kitchen.”

She rolled her eyes disrespectfully again, and snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Alice—“

And before I could utter another word, she was in my face, her mouth mere inches from mine, her scent seeping into my pores, invading my lungs, and muddling my thoughts. _You can’t do this!_ Oh, but I wanted to, and even as Daniel’s trusting face swam into my mind, I still wanted to do it. I yearned to feel her mouth molded to mine and the heat of her body burning through my clothes. I was a loathsome cad for the wanting, no better than that scoundrel Joseph, whom I’d derided in my thoughts only moments ago.

“Alice, no,” I whispered, but she didn’t hear me, or if she did she chose not to listen.

Her lips touched mine, gently, hesitantly. I wanted to gaze into her eyes to see if she found my coldness repulsive, but her lids were closed. In those few seconds of contact, her scent invaded my body, its flames searing their way down my throat and into my lungs. I battled against my baser instincts, just as I had every day since she’d entered my life. I fought my overwhelming desire to rip out her neck and feast on her life’s blood, and I won. I ignored the pain—it was easier than I’d thought it would be—and rejoiced in the softness of her human mouth, the succulent taste of her lips, her sweet, beautiful innocence.

She abruptly pulled away, studying me curiously, watching for a reaction, watching me while I burned. _Forgive me, Daniel._ I tenderly touched her cheek, reveling in the heat beneath my fingers, marveling at the flush of blood that lightly tinted her cheeks. I looked into her eyes, getting lost in the green, and kissed her again, more deeply this time, and longer. When she moaned softly into my mouth, I came to my senses, broke the connection between us through sheer force of will, and stepped away from her.

Face flushing a bright red, she dipped her head in embarrassment, and seconds later she raised her eyes to mine—they were sparkling with mischief. “If that’s what it feels like to kiss an icebox, then I’m going to be spending a lot more time in the kitchen,” she said breathlessly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

A quick kiss to my cheek and she was gone, leaving me alone on the balcony to contemplate the implications of what I’d just done.

 

* * *

 

I returned home that morning with a heavy heart. Daniel was inside waiting for me, and since it seemed like he sometimes knew me better than I knew myself, there was no chance of me hiding this from him. I found him in the study, socked feet propped up on a footstool set close to the fire, a sketch pad in his lap and drawing. He looked up and welcomed me home with his usual smile, his love for me reflected in those beautiful golden eyes.

There was no use wasting time with pleasantries. “I kissed Alice tonight. She asked me to, and though I protested that it wouldn’t be right, she threatened to ask another man in the hospital to do it, so I did it. I kissed her…twice.”

He looked away; his body went still. The clock continued its ticking and the logs in the fireplace crackled softly, but Daniel’s prolonged silence overpowered every small sound in the room.

“I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be.”

Silence.

“Daniel, please. Shout at me, curse me for the inconsiderate bastard that I am, but just say something.”

He looked up at me. “I’m not angry with you.”

 _Hell and damnation!_ Of course he wasn’t angry. He was an expert at overlooking my faults and pretending I was a decent creature with a heart of gold when, in reality, I was as selfish as the day was long. “I keep hurting you over and over again,” I said softly.

He nodded. “Yes, you do. That’s true.” Then he smiled. “But you keep making me happy, too…over and over again. The good in this relationship far outweighs the bad, Michael.”

I sighed in frustration. The man was utterly maddening. He was blind when it came to seeing my shortcomings. “You deserve better than me,” I pronounced.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, are we back to that again?” He shook his head and frowned. “How many times have we had this conversation?” He jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I decide what I deserve, not you.” He set his sketchpad aside and rose, joining me by the door. “This thing with Alice isn’t a surprise to me. I knew it was coming—Rhodes warned me—but I made the decision to stay anyway. It’s my choice where I want to be, and mine alone. Right now, I want to be here, with you.”

“But, that’s not—“

He swiftly cut off my objection. “I’ve shared you with women before; you know I don’t mind that. Just be glad it wasn’t Wills you kissed or I’d be ripping your skinny arse to shreds right now.”

My mouth dropped open. Wills?? Where had that come from??

Daniel laughed. “Oh, stop acting like you have no idea what I’m talking about. Wills cuts a fine figure when he’s all dressed up in a suit. The man is beautiful, and don’t bother trying to convince me that you haven’t noticed that fine arse of his, because I certainly have.”

“You’re insane!” I sputtered in outrage.

A smirk. “So you’re telling me you’ve never looked twice at the man, never wondered what it would be like…..”

“No, I haven’t.” Actually, I’d noticed that he was quite handsome, but never had I imagined taking him to my bed. I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “But maybe I should be the one kicking someone’s arse for even noticing someone else’s fine arse.”

He chuckled softy and moved closer. “I’m teasing you, Michael. There is only one fine arse on this planet that interests me. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Nothing you can say or do is going to convince me otherwise.”

And selfish man that I was, I didn’t want him to be anywhere else but with me. “Do you know the depth of my love for you?”

He smiled and pushed fondly at my cowlick. “I do, and that is why I stay.”

* * *

 

**~ ALICE ~**

I woke just before dawn and my first coherent thought was of Morgan, as was my last thought before I’d closed my eyes to sleep. I just couldn’t get him, or that kiss, out of my mind. Even in my wildest imaginings, I’d never dreamed the touch of someone else’s lips could feel like that. Those love stories in the magazines weren’t exaggerating when they said a kiss could make the whole world disappear in an instant. The women in those stories practically swooned into a faint every time a man kissed them, and I’d thought it all silly nonsense. Now I knew it to be true.

 _Men and their kisses._ I sighed and smiled in wonder. Morgan’s kiss had made my heart beat faster than it ever had in my life. He’d taken my breath away with his closeness, and that strange, but pleasantly alluring smell that seemed to radiate off his skin. I’d longed to press myself closer, to feel his body against mine, to breathe in the smell of him until I lost all sense of myself. I never knew a man had the power to do that to a woman.

I closed my eyes and smiled when his face came into focus. Contrary to what he’d said, I hadn’t found the coldness to be unpleasant. Morgan’s skin had always been cool to touch; it would have been stranger to me if his kiss had been warm. I loved him just as he was—medical condition and all.

I relaxed and proceeded to relive every moment on that balcony. I replayed our conversation in my mind, taking care not to skip a single word, building the anticipation of that moment when my lips had finally made contact with his. The memory made my body tingle in places it never had before. I snaked a hand beneath the blanket and touched my breasts; my nipples were hard and it felt good to rub my fingers across them.

Then I remembered the second kiss, the really deep one, the one Morgan had given me without my asking. A sharp, but extremely pleasant, pain made itself known between my legs, quick and then it was gone. But that wonderful tingling feeling lingered, and the more I thought of our kiss the more insistent the sensation got. It was like an invisible hand was tugging at my own, leading it downward until it settled in the space between my thighs. My fingers seem to know what to do all on their own. I kissed Morgan over and over again in my mind, stroking my nipples with one hand and rubbing the cleft between my legs with the other, until the world disappeared once again in a blinding flash of ecstasy that I’d never known was possible. I clamped my mouth shut, forcing myself not to cry out as pleasure overtook my entire body, radiating outward from my hand and moving over every inch of my skin, every nerve ending. Even the hair on my scalp tingled in its wake.

I sighed when it was over, more relaxed and content that I’d been in a very long time. Morgan thought me attractive enough to kiss, and—Jesus, please forgive me for thinking this—but he was damned good at kissing, too. He’d seemed to enjoy it as much as I had; he’d just stopped way too soon to suit me. Maybe next time it would last a little longer.

I beamed as the rays of the morning sun pushed their way between my curtains and lit up my previously dreary room. It was a new day in the life of Mary Alice Brandon, a new beginning. I loved Morgan and there was nothing anyone could do to change that.

 


	54. The Last Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot points (which will not be written in detail) leading up to this scene:
> 
> In the last chapter, Morgan kissed Alice and confessed the act to Daniel. I established in that chapter that there are romantic feelings between Morgan and Alice that cannot be denied. She is not some airhead teenager with a crush; she is very mature and intelligent, and has a deep love for this man who has been, first her savior, then her teacher, protector and substitute father figure for as long as she's known him. So, logically, their interactions (had I written them in separate chapters) would have become more and more intimate as an outgrowth of their acknowledgment (finally) that they are attracted to one another. However, they have NOT had sex at this point. Michael is very conservative and a man of his time when it comes to women. He has too much respect for Alice and would never do anything to ruin her reputation. (Plus, there is the very real fear that he would hurt her. Even though he has had relations with human women in the past, only one has survived the ordeal: Katherine. And she died in childbirth, so Morgan is understandably hesitant to take their relationship to the next logical step.)
> 
> Also, I established several chapters back that Mary Grace no longer works at the hospital because of her growing family, yet she still visits Alice regularly. This chapter deals with one such visit, and the events set the stage for Ms. Filkin's future demise at Michael's hands.
> 
> **This scene takes place a year later, in 1916, just a couple of months away from the major event that will completely change the course of Alice, Morgan and Daniel's life.

**~ MORGAN ~**

_**1916** _

****

I wondered, as I leisurely made my way to the hospital, if I had finally reached that point in my life where I could honestly say I had everything I'd ever wanted. Despite the deepening love developing between Alice and I, my relationship with Daniel still continued to smolder and burn as hotly as it ever had. We'd spent the day indoors together, testing the strength of my bed (and of our muscles), and playfully lavishing our attentions upon one another. We'd talked, laughed, and argued, of course (when did we not??), but I'd loved every moment of today. He was an intoxicating man who I found impossible to ignore.

I continually reminded him of my blatant selfishness—allowing my love for Alice to blossom, while carrying on with him like a lovesick boy—and he continually reminded me of how practiced he was at sharing my affections, and that his love for me was stronger than my desire to put myself down. I sighed aloud. There was no talking to him about this subject. He was, and forever would be, blind to my faults.

If only Rhodes were a part of my life, then everything would truly be perfect. But that was an unrealistic dream; I'd burned that bridge by starting a romantic relationship with Alice. Rhodes was many things, but she had never been blind to my faults, nor would she ever accept them with the stubborn determination that Daniel had. I loved her and she loved me, but Rhodes needed me to love _only_ her, and that was something I could never do, which saddened me if I dwelled upon the topic for too long.

Regardless of how happy I was at that moment, I knew, from past experience, that such extreme happiness never lasted. Fate had proven herself to be a jealous shrew who apparently couldn't tolerate the state of sustained joy. I knew without a doubt that my day of reckoning was coming, but until that day arrived, I was going to enjoy every beautiful facet of the jewel my life had become.

My steps quickened as I drew closer to the hospital. No matter how much pleasure and contentment I derived from my time spent with Daniel, I always looked forward to my evenings with Alice with the same excited anticipation of a young boy experiencing first love. When I arrived, Alice's room was empty, which was no surprise. My inquiries of passing nurses as to her whereabouts were met with the usual shrugs. I stopped, sighed, sifting through the possibilities, trying to choose which area I should try first. I decided on the balcony, her favorite hideaway in the hospital.

She wasn't there, but she'd been there, and not very long ago. Her scent lingered in the heavy, humid air, faint but still detectable to the creature whose very existence revolved around that enticing fragrance. I stood, rooted in place, staring at the deepening sunset, the orange, purple and pink streaks resembling the broad strokes of Daniel's brush. I breathed the unpleasantly moist air deep into my lungs and held it there, plucking the stray tendrils of her scent from its grasp, and savoring the mild burn in my throat that resulted. _Where is she,_ I wondered, _and what was she thinking as she stood here and stared off into the distance?_ Had she been thinking of me in the same way I thought about her? I liked to think that she had, but then why had she left and not waited for me to join her?

 _"What are you going to do to me?!!"_ It was Alice's frantic voice; her words were faint, but the fear in them was very strong. Where was she?? I cocked my head and listened for a clue, but all I got for my efforts was one pleading word:  _"Morgan..."_

Wherever she was, she was scared and she needed my help. I threw open the balcony door and raced down the stairs, my senses attuned to the myriad of voices in the building, listening, discarding the irrelevant ones, searching for the only one that mattered. _Talk, Alice!! Give me a clue where you are!_

 

_"You suffered a severe psychotic break today, but we can fix that."_

_"It wasn't a psychotic break! I was just telling you the truth!!"_

 

I snarled at hearing an all-too-familiar voice arguing with Alice: Mrs. Filkins. _Keep talking you heartless bitch, so I can find you and snap your neck in two!_

 

_"Your mind has obviously snapped, but this will help you, Alice. This treatment is very effective at restoring rational thought to the delusional mind."_

_"I am NOT delusional!! What I told you is the truth, and nothing you can do to me is going to change that!"_

 

I listened to the ridiculous argument while using their voices to track their location. I was getting closer, narrowing it down to the far side of the hospital. Obviously Alice wasn't delusional or psychotic, as such patients had extreme difficulty carrying on an intelligent conversation. My sarcasm was lost on everyone but myself, as I raced down hallway after hallway, searching. 

 

_"The doctor has approved it. Get the ice and get it ready."  
_

 

An assortment of Daniel's blasphemous vulgarities ran through my mind as I followed the sound of that bitch's voice. Her instructions could only mean one thing: an ice bath. 

 

_"What are you going to do??"_

 

I stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, fists clenched in fury, ignoring the quizzical looks of the nurses passing by me. The locked doors to Ward 4 were staring me in the face. Alice was behind them, about to be put into an ice bath and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help her short of going on a murderous rampage that would make the carnage at Gettysburg look tame.

"Can I help you with something?" I tore my gaze away from the entry to Ward 4 to find a supervising nurse staring me down. I was out of my work area, with no justifiable reason for being there.

"Alice Brandon," I said, surprised at how calm I sounded. "She's in Ward 4. I'm concerned about her welfare."

The nurse made a sympathetic noise—my fatherly concern for Alice was no secret in this hospital—and assured me she was fine, that the treatment she was receiving was ordered by her doctor and would help restore the imbalance in her brain.

I fought the urge to wrap my fingers around her stupid neck and squeeze. Alice didn't have any imbalances in her brain. What she had was a pathetic excuse for a human being posing as her "caring" nurse!

"I'm sure you have duties to attend to, Mr. Grant." Despite her sympathy, I heard disapproval, and a thinly-veiled reprimand, in her voice. "There's nothing you can do here."

I fumed, helpless, and turned on my heel, stalking back the way I'd come, cursing that bitch with every profanity I could muster. If she hurt Alice, she was going to pay dearly, and this time I wouldn't stop with a crushed finger. There was nowhere I could go in this hospital where I wouldn't be able to hear Alice's voice. Heartsick with rage, I returned to the balcony and steeled myself for the ordeal that was coming.

The sun was nearly below the horizon when I heard the first scream. She was fighting them, protesting that there was nothing wrong with her, that she was only telling the truth. I had no idea what had transpired earlier in the day to cause her to be subjected to this treatment, but I suspected that Alice had had a vision, and with naïve foolishness, had shared it with someone. I'd warned her so many times to keep her visions to herself, but her huge heart was her greatest enemy. Her wish to help others often overwhelmed her common sense in these matters.

I heard the balcony door open behind me. If this was another nurse here to tell me that I was neglecting my duties while Alice was suffering alone, I wasn't sure I could hold my temper this time.

"Go away!" I snapped without looking to see who it was, my voice shaking with rage. At that particular moment, the most agonizing scream I'd ever heard echoed inside my head. I growled through gritted teeth, hands over my ears, desperate to shut out the sound. "I can't stand the screaming!" I moaned painfully.

"Who's screaming, Morgan?!"

I whipped around at the unexpected sound of Mary Grace's voice. Was she due to visit Alice today?? Considering that I probably looked like one of the lunatics in this hospital, it was no surprise when Mary Grace approached me with a panicked concern.

"What is it? What's wrong?!"

"It's Alice!" I screamed, backing away from her. I was on the verge of losing control. I needed to hold onto something to keep my hands from taking on a life of their own, to keep them from ripping and tearing flesh in an effort to stop Alice's torture. I dug my fingers into the bricks anchoring the railing as her screams continued to pierce the night.

Then even worse than the screams, I heard her crying, pleading, and sobbing my name, begging for my help, and there was nothing I could do. "Oh," I moaned as I sunk to the floor on my knees, my fingers digging holes in the cement beneath them. "Make it stop!" I closed my hands over my ears once again. _God, if you exist like Daniel thinks you do, please let her pass out, please. Give her peace, oblivion. Hurry!!_

"Morgan, I don't hear anything," Mary Grace said soothingly, stooping down in front of me. "There's no one's screaming."

Then there was silence, blessed quiet. The screams had stopped. The begging, the crying, the helpless pleading had finally stopped. A whimper, not unlike that from a helpless child in the midst of a night terror, issued from my throat. I scrabbled up from the floor and tried to regain my composure. Mary Grace rose, and backed away from me until she now stood in one corner, eyeing me warily. I watched her eyes slowly survey the damage I'd done to the small balcony: the railing, warped and twisted into something unrecognizable; the bricks ripped from the wall where my fingers had dug into them; shards of glass scattered around the stone patio; indentations in the cement from the clawing of my fingers.

"What are you?" she asked softly, finally meeting my gaze. I was ashamed to see fear in her eyes. I had never wanted her or Alice to fear me.

"We don't have time to talk about this right now," I answered, my voice hoarse and raspy. "Alice needs both of us. Mrs. Filkins put her in an ice bath in Ward 4. She's being taken out now and returned to her room."

"And you know this how?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

"I heard it," I said softly. "Just like I heard every scream, every tearful plea for my help that came from that room."

"Ward 4 is clear across the hospital," she said in soft astonishment. "There's no way you could have heard that." After a few moments, her blue eyes turned a steely, cold blue as she silently considered all that she'd witnessed. "What are you?" she asked again, more forceful now.

"I promise, Mary Grace, I'll tell you everything you want to know, _after_ we help Alice," I answered just as forcefully.

"You certainly will," she said, her mouth set in a grim line of determination.

I yanked open the doors to the balcony and fled down the halls as fast as I could without resorting to vampire speed. Mary Grace was running full out behind me trying to keep up. By the time we reached Alice's room, the halls were deserted. Mrs. Filkins was, no doubt, making herself scarce.

Ice baths were an accepted treatment for delusional patients who had failed to respond to more conventional methods. Mrs. Filkins could not be reprimanded for administering one in this instance, but when I saw Alice lying on her bed, nude and uncovered, her lips and fingers turning blue, and her heart beating dangerously slow, I was going to ensure that she was held personally accountable, by me, for not following proper procedure. Immediately after the patient was removed from the ice, they were supposed to be continually wrapped in warmed blankets to slowly bring the body temperature back up to normal. To ignore this part of the treatment risked irreversible brain damage to the patient and/or possibly death. Mrs. Filkins was now death walking. I fought the rage building inside of me and the almost uncontrollable need to go find her and rip her life from her right then. But, there were priorities. Alice's body temperature had to be raised, and quickly, or she would surely perish.

"What the hell is that woman thinking?!!" Mary Grace shouted in shock upon finding Alice unceremoniously dumped, naked and cold, onto her bed. "She'll die if we don't warm her up!!"

"We need warm blankets! Where are they kept?!!" I shouted, barely holding my panic at bay.

"No time," she snapped authoritatively. "The showers."

I didn't need any elaboration. I scooped Alice up into my arms and raced down the hall with her, not caring that I probably looked like a madman with murder on his mind. Mary Grace was right behind me, but pushed ahead when we entered the shower room. She passed the numerous showerheads poking out of the cement walls—they only had cold water—and headed straight to the line of tubs against the wall. She started filling the first one she came to with hot water. I didn't need any instructions on what to do.

If Alice died, or her brain was irreparably damaged by this, Mrs. Filkins was going to regret the day she ever opened her eyes to this world.  
  


* * *

 

I was sitting on the bed, by her side, wanting to touch her to reassure myself she was well, but knowing my coldness would do her no good. I settled for stroking a lone finger delicately down the strands of hair that framed her face. The blue was gone from her fingers and lips; her heart rate had returned to normal. The warm baths—six tubs full—had restored the pink glow to her skin. She had yet to awaken, so we still had no idea if her brain had suffered any damage. Mary Grace assured me she was going to be fine, but she had no way of knowing for sure. I placed no trust in anyone but Alice now. When she finally opened her eyes and spoke to me, only then would I believe Mary Grace's words.

Mary Grace finally got up to leave, telling me in a quiet voice that she was going to speak with the nursing staff in Ward 4 to determine why Alice had not been cared for properly. I listened with half an ear, nor did I respond to her invitation to join her—the whys of it meant nothing to me. The doctor may have authorized it, but Mrs. Filkins was responsible for setting the wheels in motion that led to the treatment. For that alone she was going to die.

 

* * *

 

Alice's eyes fluttered open and I had to admit to some great measure of joy at the fact that my name was the first word she uttered.

"Morgan?"

She searched for me, and in seconds found my face hovering inches from hers. She smiled, of all things! After what she'd been through, I would have understood completely if she'd burst into tears, or threw recriminations at me for not helping her, but she didn't. She smiled. I smiled in return. My anger and guilt had no place here.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I have no access to Ward 4."

She nodded, her smile only faltering a little. "I know. I don't hold you responsible. It was me. I had a vision of Mrs. Filkins' granddaughter getting injured in an outing. I begged Mrs. Filkins to ensure she didn't go. She wouldn't listen. I don't know why I even bothered."

"You bothered because you have a good heart." I gently placed my hand on her chest, joyous that the thrum beneath my fingers was strong and steady. "It speaks to you, and you listen, as you should. Don't ever stop listening to what it tells you, Alice."

Her hand sought out mine and our fingers interlocked tightly. "Right now it's telling me that I love you, Morgan Grant."

Her revelation left me stunned and speechless. We'd both felt the attraction, but had never given voice to it before. The jewel that was my life suddenly shone with a brilliance so blinding that it left me wondrous. "I love you, as well."

She giggled softly; the sound warmed my heart. "I think it's quite improper for a queen to fall in love with a peasant, though."

I chuckled. "Yes, our love is very improper." _You have no idea, Alice._ "But I don't care," I added.

She squeezed my hand. "Neither do I."

 

* * *

 

"She's sleeping." I filled Mary Grace in on what had happened to cause Mrs. Filkins to request the ice bath. She clucked in disapproval—having warned Alice many times herself to keep quiet about her visions—but, like me, she understood that Alice's good nature would always be at war with her sense of self-preservation.

"And _I_ found out that Mrs. Filkins is laying the blame on one of her nurses, a woman who hasn't been here long." Mary Grace rolled her eyes. "She's saying she gave her instructions about the warming blankets, and her inability to follow simple directions would ensure she'd no longer have a job come tomorrow."

"Do you believe her?" I asked, skeptical.

Mary Grace shook her head. "No, I don't. A couple of the other nurses expressed their doubts over her story, too. One claims she never heard any instructions given about the blankets, only for Alice to be taken from the bath directly to her room. I was told this in confidence, of course. All of them are afraid to confront Mrs. Filkins directly. They're scared of her, so I seriously doubt anyone will come forward and speak out against her. That nurse, poor woman, is going to take the blame for something she didn't do."

I said nothing, content in the knowledge that Mrs. Filkins was going to see her judgment day. As far as helping the innocent nurse, there was nothing I could do, but I was going to ensure that this earth had one less inhabitant on it as soon as I possibly could.

"I'm afraid I must get to my duties or I will be joining that innocent nurse," I said.

Mary Grace folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "You and I are having a conversation. In the break room. Now."

 

* * *

 

Her silence at my revelation was frightening me. What was she going to do with her newfound knowledge? Report me to the administrator of the hospital? Have me fired? Run out of town on a rail? God forbid she would think of telling Alice! Did she even believe me??

"I want you to know that I love Alice deeply. I have from the moment I first looked into those green eyes, when she was just a scared little girl. My life is all about protecting her, Mary Grace, and if you know anything about me at all, you know this already. I have never harmed her and I never will."

Silence.

"Do you believe what I told you?" She didn't have to answer. I could see the disbelief in her eyes. I laid my arm on the table, palm up. "Take my pulse, then."

Of course she tried, but failed. When she realized she wouldn't find a pulse no matter how much she poked and prodded at my wrist, when she touched her fingers to my neck and failed to feel the expected beat beneath them, when she laid her ear against my chest and listened for something that simply wasn't there, she finally believed. I saw that in her eyes, as well.

"What are your intentions with Alice?" A very direct and to-the-point question. I'd fully expected to be inundated with inquires about my age, my abilities, and other assorted trivia about my vampire nature, but it pleased me that Alice's well-being was first and foremost in her mind—as it was in mine.

"To protect her until such a time that she is no longer a patient in this hospital," I answered. "And when she is released, my intentions extend only so far as Alice's desire to have me in her life. If she wishes it to be so, then I will continue to be there for her. And just so there is no misunderstanding, I love Alice as a man loves a woman. She feels the same way about me."

She frowned. "Is there any future for her in this??"

I closed my eyes, wishing that when I opened them, Mary Grace would not be looking at me with such sadness. This was a question that had weighed upon my conscience for many years. Was my presence in Alice's life in her best interests? I opened my eyes again and spoke the truth as best as I knew it.

"As I once told you, Mary Grace, I am a difficult man to love. You understand now. Alice doesn't know, but I _do_ plan to tell her one day, when the time is right. So, to answer your question, I don't know if there is any future in this for her, but I find myself unable to walk away from it, and I won't unless she asks me to."

She reached across the table and grasped my hand. "You don't have a medical condition. Your skin is cold because you're a..."

I nodded when she failed to finish the sentence. She couldn't yet bring herself to say the word. Then her eyes widened. "Daniel?? Is he....?"

"Yes, he is a vampire, as well." Daniel was also my lover, which was something Mary Grace, or even Alice for that matter, would never understand. Half the time even _I_ didn't understand it. As far as I was concerned, that was one secret that would never be told.

A small, wondrous smile changed her expression from one of confusion to curiosity and awe. "The Earth suddenly looks very different to me right now. Everything is not as it seems, is it?"

I sighed and agreed. "I hope this means you're going to keep our secret."

"I won't say anything..." She hesitated. "...as long as Alice stays safe."

I heard the clear warning in her promise.

 

* * *

 

I closed the door, shutting myself away from a world that seemed intent on ripping everything I held dear away from me. My home, my sanctuary, my small, quiet space where I always found acceptance and love waiting for me at the door. I stood still, my feet frozen to the floor, as the full implications of what had nearly happened tonight finally hit me: Alice had come closer to tasting death than she ever had since I'd known her. I'd almost lost her forever.

"Michael?"

Daniel knew me better than anyone. He set aside whatever was in his hand and cautiously approached me. He'd seen me this way before, many times, my fury barely controlled, my demon hovering at the edges of my sanity. He was being careful, as he should be. I felt very dangerous at that moment.

"What happened?" he asked softly, and when I didn't answer, he said, "Talk to me, Michael."

My fists bunched of their own accord. I saw a glimmer of fear appear in his golden eyes, but that didn't stop him from closing the gap between us and gently wrapping his fingers around my clenched hands. He patiently murmured soft words of comfort to me, reminding me of my precious place in his world and in his heart. He whispered loving reassurances to me until he felt my grip relax, until he sensed the danger in me was gone.

"Mrs. Filkins tried to kill Alice tonight, but she failed."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and darkened. When angered, he was a very dangerous vampire in his own right, but he was better at controlling it than me. I gave him the details, leaving out the part where Alice and I had confessed our love for each other.

"You're going to kill her, very soon," he stated, and it wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

"No." I smiled. "I'm not going to just kill her. I'm going to rip her into a thousand bloody pieces, but not too quickly. She's going to suffer for her multitude of sins."

Daniel nodded his approval. "Just promise me you'll wait until you can do it without getting caught."

"I promise."

"Are you sure Alice is unharmed?" he asked.

"I'm sure. She's well and was sound asleep when I left."

He lifted a hand to my face and traced the contour of my lip with his finger. "I have to admit..." he said, his voice soft and sultry. "...that I can't wait until you do it. The sex is so damned good after you kill."

For once I didn't chastise him for always thinking below his waistline. He was right. The sex _was_ good, extremely good, when I took a human life for the sheer joy of it. And it gave me a perverse kind of pleasure to know that her death would bring me an intense physical release. Perhaps I'd tell her that before I killed her, just so I could laugh at the righteous outrage on her face.

"I'm looking forward to that, as well," I said.

 


End file.
